


Fortune Favours The Brave

by Lara234



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Kara is a nerd for science and engineering, Lena Luthor Needs a Hug, Natural Disasters, Nerdy aqueduct stuff, Pompeii, Roman AU, Romance, Slow Burn, WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT?, and she destroys the Roman patriarchy, lots of pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28733511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lara234/pseuds/Lara234
Summary: Against all odds, Kara Zor-El is sent by Rome to run the greatest aqueduct in the world, the mighty Aqua Augusta in the Bay of Naples.A sweltering week in late August. But there are ominous warnings that something is going wrong. Wells and springs are failing, a man has disappeared, and the aqueduct has suddenly ceased to flow.Kara uncovers the mysteries of Mount Vesuvius while trying to thrwat rich aristocrat Lex Luthor's plans. To make matters worse, she might just be falling in love with his younger sister, Lena.--A Supercorp retelling of Robert Harris' book Pompeii. Roman AU - first two chapters are up!
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 25
Kudos: 50





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> So I recently read the book Pompeii by Robert Harris and figured it would make for a really good Supercorp roman AU fic. Of course, this I am twisting a few historical accuracies to suit Kara being the female protagonist in a male-dominated Roman Empire. So take some things with a pinch of salt!
> 
> If you're unfamiliar with Roman history, I'll try to help you out as best as I can in the notes of each chapter. To start with, an aquarius was an aqueduct engineer, usually in charge of supplying water to Roman towns and cities nearby. I suggest you reference the map at the beginning of this chapter to get an understanding of where these places are.
> 
> This story will also get pretty descriptive of some of the science comes into play, as it does in the book. I did toy with the idea of having Lena as the engineer in this, but let's not forget Kara is also very much a science-nerd (even if The CW don't want us to believe it).
> 
> I also want to say that I don't own Pompeii by Robert Harris, and full credit goes to him for the plotline of the story.

_Map of the 'Aqua Augusta' aqueduct, Bay of Naples_

_\--_

They left the aqueduct two hours before dawn, climbing by the moonlight into the hills overlooking the port; six of them in single file, the young aqueduct engineer leading. 

Kara Zor-El was no ordinary woman. She’d beaten all the odds to become one of -  _ if not the only _ \- woman with a well respected and professional job in the Roman Empire. It was almost unheard of! Unlike many of her female peers, she’d bucked the trend and said no babies and the life of a homemaker, and became an aqueduct engineer.

Something which should have caused a scandal had she not been so talented at what she did. Luckily for her, the new Emperor Titus himself had seen her worth, regardless of her sex. Tutored by her late father Zor-El, and his close friend Jeremiah Danvers, she’d learnt skills and knowledge that had provided to be valuable to her achievements.

Her family name was possibly the most honourable in the history of her profession. The house of El, aqueduct engineers for four generations.

Kara’s great-grandfather, Var-El, had been recruited by Marcus Agrippa to set to work building the Aqua Julia. Her grandfather had planned the Anio Novus. Her father and Jeremiah completed the Aqua Claudia together. They’d brought Claudia into the Esquiline Hill over seven arches, and laid her on the day of her dedication, like a silver carpet at the feet of the Emperor.

Now his daughter, aged twenty-five, had been personally selected to go south to Campania and command the Aqua Augusta as its aquarius. A family dynasty, built on water!

Oh, but she was a mighty piece of work, the Augusta. One of the greatest feats of engineering ever accomplished; it was going to be an honour to command her.

She was the longest aqueduct in the world, longer even than the great aqueducts of Rome and far more complex. For whereas her sisters in the north fed only one city, the Augusta’s serpentine conduit supplied no fewer than nine towns around the Bay of Neapolis.

And this was the problem, in Kara’s opinion. Augusta had to do too much. Rome, after all, had more than half a dozen aqueducts: if one failed the others could make up for it. But there was no reserve supply down here, especially not in this drought, now dragging into its third month.

Wells that had provided water for generations had turned into tubes of dust. Streams had dried up. River beds had become tracks for farmers to drive their beasts along to the market. Even the Augusta was showing signs of exhaustion, the level of her enormous reservoir dropping by the hour.

It was this problem that had brought Kara out onto the hillside in the middle of the night when she was meant to be asleep in bed.

Kara had yanked the men out of their beds herself, all stiff limbs and sullen, bleary faces. And now she could hear them complaining about her behind her back, their voices carrying louder than they realised in the warm air.

“A fool’s errand,” somebody muttered.

"Girls should stick to their dolls,” said another.

Biting back her tongue, she lengthed her stride. 

_ ‘Let them talk,’ _ Kara thought. 

Already she could feel the heat of the morning beginning to build, the promise of another day without rain. 

Besides being the only female, she was also a lot younger than most of her work gang. Although she was considered quite tall and physically strong for a woman, she was still a lot shorter than them. But she could still hold her own when needed.

Letting out a strained huff, she pushed a loose strand of blonde hair off her face. The tools she carried slung across her shoulder, a heavy bronze headed axe and a wooden shovel, chafed against her sunburnt neck. 

Still, Kara forced herself to stretch her bare legs as far as they would reach, climbing up the steep hillside path from foothold to foothold. Only when she was high above Misenum, at a place where the track forked, did she set down her burdens and wait for the others to catch up.

The blonde wiped the sweat from her eyes with the sleeve of her tunic. Such shimmering, feverish heavens they had down here in the south. Even this close to sunrise, a great hemisphere of stars swept down to the horizon.

Kara raised her hand to the sky in awe, the silhouette of her fingers black and sharp against the glittering constellations. She spread them, clenched them, spread them again and for a moment it seemed to her that she was a shadow.

From down the harbour, she could hear the splash of oars as the night watch rowed between moored triremes. The yellow lanterns of a couple of fishing boats winked across the Bay of Neapolis. She sighed and caught her breath as she took in the sights around her.

Kara’s moment of peace was ruined by the voices of the labourers, slowly climbing the path beneath her.

“Look, our new aquarius is waving at the stars!” came the harsh accent of Ben Lockwood, the overseer.

The slaves and the free men equals for once in their resentment if nothing else, let out a few sniggers in between panting for breath.

Kara dropped her hand from the sky.

“At least,” she said, “with such a sky, we have no need of torches.”

Determined and ready to continue, she stooped to collect her tools and hoisted them back onto her shoulder.

“We must keep moving,” she instructed.

Frowning in the darkness, she looked at the roads ahead. One path would lead them westwards, skirting the edge of the naval base. The other would take them north towards the seaside town of Baiae.

“ _ I think _ this is where we turn,” she pondered.

“She _ thinks _ ,” sneered Lockwood. “I didn’t know women possessed such a skill!”

The day before, the blonde had decided that the best way to deal with Lockwood - and his blatant misogynistic attempts to undermine her - was to ignore him. 

Without a word, she put her back to the sea and stars and began ascending the black mass of the hillside. She needed to show leadership, even if that meant putting on a confident front and pretending that her choice wasn’t a blind one.

The path she took turned out to be much steeper than before. Kara had to scramble up it sideways, sometimes using her free hand to pull herself along, her feet skidding, sending showers of loose stones rattling away in the darkness. She tried to remember how the path appeared yesterday afternoon when she first ventured up it. 

A twisting track, barely wide enough for a mule, with swathes of dry, scorched grass. And then, at a place where the ground levelled out, flecks of pale green in the darkness; signs of life that turned out to be shoots of ivy reaching towards a boulder.

After going halfway up an incline and then back down it, Kara stopped and turned slowly in a full circle. Dawn was slowly creeping upon them, which meant they were nearly out of time. 

The others halted behind her. She could hear their laboured heavy breathing. Here was a story for them to take back to their families in Misenum. How their young,  _ female _ aquarius had dragged them from their sleep and marched them up the hills in the middle of the night. All on a fool’s errand.

“Are we lost,  _ blondie _ ?” Lockwood’s mocking voice rang out, breaking Kara out of her thoughts.

The engineer made the mistake of rising to the bait, “I’m looking for a rock.”

This time, they didn’t even try to hide their laughter.

“She’s running around like a mouse in a pisspot!” one howled.

“I know it's here somewhere, I marked it with chalk!” she countered, the heat rising to her cheeks.

More laughter, and at that she turned on them; the freemen Ben Lockwood, Mike Matthews and William Dey; and the two slaves Querl Dox (nicknamed Brainy) and Winn Schott.

“Laugh all you want, but I promise you...either we find it before sunrise or we’ll all be back here tomorrow night. Including you, Lockwood. Only next time, make sure you’re  _ sober _ .”

Silence. 

Then Lockwood spat and took half a step forward and Kara braced herself for a fight. The two of them had been building up to this for three days now, ever since she’d arrived in Misenum. Not an hour had passed without him trying to undermine her in front of the men. He, along with the others, clearly wasn’t too thrilled that they were being ordered around by a woman. 

It wasn’t like she didn't know how to fight. She’d had plenty of sparring sessions with her cousin Kal and his friend, James, when they returned home on break from the ninth legion.

_ James. _

Her heart tightened at the thought of him. It’d been six months since his death and truth be told, Kara was still heartbroken. She’d never thought she wanted marriage, especially given her unusual career path, but found herself agreeing to be betrothed to James. He was incredibly supportive of her work too, something that was nearly as unheard of as a female aquarius!

She and Kal had a comfortable childhood, up until when Kara reached the age of sixteen and they became the only two survivors of a house fire. Both of Kal’s parents, Kara’s mother, and her father perished. The man who had taught her everything there was to know about water, her mentor, her father...was suddenly taken from her by the Fates. 

After the fire, Kal was already a man and decided that he would join the Roman army. Luckily for Kara, her father’s colleague Jeremiah Danvers adopted her. Jeremiah was liberal-minded, like Kara’s father, so the blonde’s tuition on water continued.

One summer, Kal returned from the legion to stay with his cousin and the Danvers family. He brought along a friend he’d fought and lived with during his time in the army, James Olsen. A whirlwind summer romance between Kara and James followed.

Clearing her mind, Kara drew her attention back to the situation in front of her. Regardless of whatever training she’d had, she knew that if she and Lockwood did fight, he would win.

_ ‘It’s five against one,’ _ she thought, _ ‘they will throw my body over a cliff and say I slipped in the darkness. But how will that go down in Rome if a second aquarius of the Aqua Augusta is lost in less than two weeks?’ _

For a long instant, the two-faced each other, no more than a pace between them. They were so close that the engineer could smell the stale wine on the older man’s stinky breath. 

Just as she readied herself, there was an excited shout from one of the others. William pointed over Lockwood’s shoulder to a rock that was neatly marked by a thick white cross.

From the leather pouch on her belt, Kara withdrew a small block of polished cedar with a chin rest carved into one side of it. The grain of the wood had been rubbed smooth and bright by the skin of her ancestors. 

Her great-grandfather was said to have been given it as a talisman by the architect to Emperor Augustus, Vitruvius, who claimed that the spirit of Neptune, the god of water, lived within it.

But Kara had no time for gods. Boys with wings on their feet, women riding dolphins, greybeards hurling bolts of lightning off the tops of mountains in fits of temper? All stories for children.

She placed her faith instead in stones and water, and in the daily miracle that came from mixing two parts of slaked lime to five parts of  _ puteolanum _ (the local red sand) conjuring up a substance that would set underwater with a consistency harder than rock.

But still, she couldn’t deny that she might need a bit of luck, and if this family heirloom could bring her that…she ran her finger around its edge. Kara would give it a try. 

The blonde thought of her scrolls of Vitruvius that she’d left behind in Rome. Not that it mattered. They had been hammered into her since childhood. While other girls learnt the jobs of the home, her father and Jeremiah had instilled all their knowledge of engineering to Kara. She could still recite entire passages of Vitruvius by heart.

_ ‘These are the growing things to be found which are signs of water: slender rushes, wild willow, alder, chaste berry, ivy, and other things of this sort, which cannot occur on their own without moisture.’ _

“Lockwood over there,” ordered Kara. “Mike there. William, take the pole and mark the place I tell you. You two, keep your eyes open.” 

Lockwood gave her a look as she passed.

“Later,” Kara said.

The overseer stank of resentment almost as strongly as he reeked of wine, but there would be time enough to settle their differences when they got back to Misenum. For now they would have to hurry!

A grey gauze had filtered out the stars. The moon had dipped. Fifteen miles to the east, at the midpoint of the bay, the forested pyramid of Mount Vesuvius was becoming visible. The sun would rise behind it.

_ ‘This is how to test for water: lie face down, before sunrise, in the places where the search is to be made, and with your chin set on the ground and propped, survey these regions. In this way, the line of sight will not wander higher than it should, because the chin will be motionless.’ _

Kara knelt on the singed grass, leant forward, and arranged the block in line with the chalk cross, fifty paces distant. Then she set her chin on the rest and spread her arms. 

The ground was still warm from yesterday. Particles of ash wafted into her face as she stretched out. No dew. Seventy-eight days without rain. The world was burning up.

At the fringe of her eyeline she saw Lockwood make an obscene gesture, thrusting out his groin.

“Our aquarius has no husband, so she tries to fuck Mother Earth instead!”

Ignoring the buffoon, Kara glanced away to her right. Vesuvius darkened and light shot from the edge of it. A shaft of heat struck the engineer’s cheek. She had to bring up her hand to shield her face from the dazzle as she squinted across the hillside.

_ ‘In those places where moisture can be seen curling and rising into the air, dig on the spot because this sign cannot occur in a dry location.’ _

Kara tried to scan the ground rapidly and methodically, shifting her gaze from one section of the land to the next. 

But it all seemed to run together. Parched browns and greys and streaks of reddish earth, already beginning to waver in the sun. Her vision blurred. Kara raised herself on her elbows and wiped each eye with a forefinger and settled her chin again.

_ There! _

As thin as a fishing line it was not ‘curling’ or ‘rising’ as Vitruvius promised, but snagging, close to the ground as if a hook were caught on a rock and someone was jerking it. It zig-zagged towards Kara. And vanished. 

She yelled and pointed, “William, there!”

The worker lumbered towards the spot. 

“Back...yes. There, mark it!”

Kara scrambled to her feet and hurried towards them, brushing the red dirt and black ash from the front of her tunic, smiling, holding the magical block of cedar aloft. The three had gathered around the place and William was trying to jam the pole into the earth, but the ground was too hard to sink it far enough.

Nevertheless, Kara was triumphant. 

“You saw it? You must have seen it, you were closer than me!” 

The workers stared at her blankly.

“It was curious, did you notice? It rose like this,” she made a series of horizontal chops at the air with the flat of her hand. “Like steam coming off a pot that’s been shaken.”

She looked from one to another, her smile fixed at first, then shrinking. Lockwood shook his head. 

“Your eyes are playing tricks on you, blondie. There’s no spring up here, I told you. I’ve known these hills for twenty years.”

“And I’m telling you I saw it,” Kara insisted.

“You saw smoke,” the overseer said, stamping his foot on the dry earth, raising a cloud of dust. “A brush fire can burn underground for days.” 

“I know smoke and I know vapour. This was definitely vapour!” she argued.

_ ‘They all must be blind!’ _ Kara thought to herself.  _ ‘Idiots.’ _

She dropped to her knees and patted the dry red earth. Then she started digging with her bare hands, working her fingers under the rocks and tossing them aside, tugging at a long, charred tuber which refused to come away. Something had emerged from here. She was sure of it. Why had the ivy come back to life so quickly if there was no spring?

Without turning around, Kara called out, “Fetch the tools.”

“What...aquarius-” 

“Fetch the tools!”

\--

They dug all morning, as the sun climbed slowly above the blue furnace of the bay, melting from yellow disc to gaseous white star. The ground creaked and tautened in the heat.

Kara, with an old straw hat pulled low over her face, worked hardest of all. Even when the others crept off occasionally to sprawl in whatever patches of shade they could find, she continued to swing her axe. The shaft was slippery with sweat and hard to grip. Her palms blistered and her tunic stuck to her like a second skin.

But she would not show weakness in front of the men. Even Lockwood shut up after a while. 

The crater they eventually excavated was twice as deep as a man’s height, and broad enough for two of them to work in. And there was a spring there, right enough, but it retreated whenever they came close. They would dig. The rusty soil at the bottom of the hole would turn damp. And then it would bake dry again in the sunlight. They would excavate another layer and the same process would recur.

Only at the tenth hour, when the sun had passed its zenith, did Kara give up in defeat.

She watched a final stain of water dwindle and evaporate, then flung her axe over the lip of the pit and hauled herself after it. The blonde pulled off her hat and fanned her burning cheeks.

The men all sat on a rock and watched her in a trance. It wasn’t like Kara didn’t know she was attractive, she simply didn’t have the time to deal with leering looks from men who were meant to respect her as their superior.

She cleared her throat as she pushed back her hair off her face, glaring at them. For the first time, she noticed that Lockwood was the only worker who had no hat on to protect his bare head.

“You’ll boil your brains in this heat,” Kara pointed out.

She uncorked her waterskin and tipped a little into her hand, splashed it on to her face and the back of her neck, then drank. It was hot, as unrefreshing as swallowing blood.

“I was born here, heat doesn’t bother me. In Campania we call this cool,” Lockwood hawked and spat. He tilted his broad chin towards the hole. “What do we do with this?”

Kara glanced at it, an ugly gash in the hillside, great mounds of earth heaped all around it. Her monument. Her folly. 

“We’ll leave it as it is’’ she said. “Have it covered with planks. When it rains, the spring will rise. You’ll see.”

“When it rains, we won’t need a spring.”

A fair point.

“We could run a pipe from it,” she said thoughtfully. 

Kara was a romantic when it came to water. In her imagination, a whole picturesque scene suddenly began to take shape. 

“We could irrigate this entire hillside. There could be lemon groves up here....or olives. It could be terraced. With vines-”

“Vines!” Lockwood shook his head. “So now we’re farmers? Listen to me, ‘young expert’ from Rome. The Aqua Augusta hasn’t failed in more than a century. And she isn’t going to fail now, not even with some woman like you in charge.”

“So we hope,” Kara conceded.

The aquarius finished the last of her water. She could feel herself blushing with humiliation, but luckily the heat hid her shame. She planted her straw hat firmly on her head and pulled down the brim to protect her face.

“All right, Lockwood, get the men together. We’re done here for the day.” 

Kara collected her tools and set off without waiting for the others. They could find their own way back.

She had to watch where she put her feet. Each step sent a scattering of lizards rustling away into the dry undergrowth. It felt more like Africa than Italy, Kara noted. When she reached the coastal path, Misenum appeared beneath her, shimmering in the haze of heat like an oasis town.

The headquarters of the western imperial fleet was a triumph of Man over Nature, for by rights no town should exist here. There was no river to support her, few wells or springs. Yet Emperor Augustus had decreed that the Empire needed a port from which to control the Mediterranean, and here she was, the embodiment of Roman power.

Ten thousand sailors and another ten thousand citizens were crammed into a narrow strip of land with no fresh water to speak of. Only the aqueduct had made Misenum possible.

Kara thought again of the curious motion of the vapour, and the way the spring had seemed to run back into the rock. Very strange, indeed.

The blonde looked ruefully at her blistered hands. 

_ ‘A fool’s errand…’ _

She shook her head, blinking her eyes to clear them of sweat, and resumed her weary trek down to the town.


	2. II

At the  _ Villa Hortensia _ , the great coastal residence on the northern outskirts of Misenum, they were preparing to put a slave to death. 

They were going to feed him to the eels. It was not an unknown practice in that part of Italy, where so many of the huge houses around the Bay of Neapolis had their own elaborate fish farms. 

The new owner of the Villa Hortensia, the millionaire Alexander ‘Lex’ Luthor, had first heard the tale as a young boy. The story of how the rich aristocrat, Vedius Pollio, would hurl clumsy servants into his eel pond as a punishment for breaking dishes, and he often referred to it admiringly as the perfect illustration of what it was to have power. 

Power, imagination, wit, and a certain  _ style _ .

So when Lex too, came to possess a fishery, and when one of his slaves also destroyed something of rare value, the same punishment naturally came back into his mind. 

Lex had been born a slave; so he knew that this was exactly how aristocrats were expected to behave.

The eels were morays, notorious for their aggression. Their bodies were as long as a man’s and as wide as a human trunk, with flat heads, wide snouts and razor teeth. The villa’s fishery was a hundred and fifty years old and nobody knew how many lurked in the labyrinth of tunnels and in the shady areas built into the bottom of the pond. One eel that lurked here was said to have been a favourite of Emperor Nero.

The slave had seen the eels in action every morning when he threw in their meal of fish heads and chicken entrails. The way the surface of the water flickered, then roiled as they sensed the arrival of the blood

At eleven, despite the sweltering heat, Lex himself promenaded down from the villa to watch, attended by his household steward. A few of his business clients came too, and a crowd of about a hundred of his other male slaves who he had decided would profit by witnessing the spectacle.

As for his mother and younger sister Lena, he had ordered them to remain indoors. This was not a sight for women after all! 

A large chair was set up for him, with smaller ones for his guests. He didn’t even know the slave’s name. He had come as part of a job lot with the fish ponds when Lex had bought the villa, for a cool ten million, earlier in the year.

All of the fish were kept, at vast expense, along the shoreline of the villa. Sea bass; grey mullet that required high walls around their pond to prevent them leaping to freedom; flatfish and parrot fish.

But by far the most expensive of Lex’s aquatic treasures were the red mullet. The delicate and whiskered goatfish were notoriously difficult to keep. Lex trembled to think how much he had paid for them. 

Truth be told, he didn’t even really like fish. But, it was these that the slave had killed. Whether it was done on purpose or by incompetence, Lex did not know, nor care. 

Yet there they were: clustered together in death as they had been in life, a multi-hued carpet floating on the surface of their pond, discovered earlier that afternoon. 

A few fish had still been alive when Lex was shown the scene, but they had died even as he watched, turning like leaves in the depths of the pool and rising to join the others. 

_ Poisoned _ . 

Every. Single. One. 

They would have fetched six thousand apiece at current market prices, one mullet being worth five times as much as the miserable slave who was supposed to look after them. Now they were fit only for the fire. 

Lex had pronounced the sentence immediately,  _ ‘Throw him to the eels!’ _

The slave was screaming as they dragged and prodded him towards the edge of the pool. 

He was shouting something along the lines of it not being his fault. He was instead blaming the water and demanding that they fetch the aquarius.

The aquarius... _ really?  _ That did make Lex laugh.

Ignoring the slave’s pleas, Lex screwed up his eyes against the glare of the sea. It was hard to make out the shapes of the slave and of the two others holding him, or of the fourth, who held a boat-hook like a lance and was jabbing it into the doomed man’s back. 

From his seat, in the haze of the heat and the sparkling waves, they all looked like mere stick-figures. Lex raised his arm in the manner of an emperor, his fist clenched his thumb parallel with the ground. 

He felt godlike in his power, yet full of simple human curiosity. For a moment he waited, tasting the sensation, then abruptly he twisted his wrist and jammed his thumb upward. 

_ “Let him have it!” _

  
  


\--

The piercing cries of the slave teetering on the edge of the eel-pond carried up from the seafront, across the terraces, over the swimming pool and into the silent house where the women were. 

Lena Luthor had run to her bedroom, thrown herself down on the mattress, and pulled her pillow over her head, but there was no escaping the sound. 

Unlike her demonic brother, she knew the slave’s name. Russell, a Greek. Although slaves were not allowed to marry, Lena also knew that he was in a romantic relationship with one of the girls who worked in the kitchens. Andrea, whose lamentations, once they started, were even more terrible than his. 

Unable to bear the screams for more than a few moments, Lena sprang up again and ran through the deserted villa to find the wailing woman, who had sunk against a column in the cloistered garden.

“He was saying it was the water, the water!” Andrea sobbed. “There was something wrong with the water. Why would nobody listen to him?”

Lena stroked Andrea’s hair and tried to make such soothing noises as she could. There was little else that she could do. 

It was useless to appeal to her brother for clemency, she knew that. He listened to nobody. Not their mother, and definitely not from his sister, from whom he expected unquestioning obedience. An intervention from either Lillian or Lena would only make the death of the slave even more certain. 

To Andrea’s pleas, Lena could only reply that there was nothing she could do. At this, the woman suddenly broke away and roughly dried her eyes on her arm. 

“I must find help,” Andrea stated, suddenly sounding very determined. 

“Andrea,” Lena said gently, “who is going to help you?” 

“Russell shouted for the aquarius. Didn’t you hear him? I’ll go get the aquarius.”

“And where will he be?” 

“He might be at the aqueduct down the hill, where the watermen work.” 

Andrea was on her feet now, trembling but determined, looking around her wildly. Her eyes were red, her dress and hair disordered. She looked like a madwoman and Lena saw at once that no one would pay her any attention. They would laugh at her, or drive her off with stones.

“I’ll come with you,” Lena offered, desperate to escape the villa even if it would only be for an hour or so. 

The younger Luthor was sick of being trapped inside this cage her brother kept her in.

As another terrible scream rose from the waterfront, Lena gathered up her skirts with one hand, grabbed Andrea’s wrist with the other and together they fled through the garden, past the empty porter’s stool, out of the side door, and into the dazzling heat of the public road.

\--

The end of the Aqua Augusta was a vast underground reservoir, a few hundred paces south of the Villa Hortensia, hewn into the slope overlooking the port. It was known, for as long as anyone could remember, as the  _ Piscina Mirabilis _ , aka ‘The Pool of Wonders.’ 

Viewed from the outside, there was nothing particularly wonderful about the pool and most of the citizens of Misenum passed it without a second glance. 

The Piscina Mirabilis appeared on the surface as a low, flat-roofed building of red brick, festooned with pale-green ivy, a city block long and half a block wide, surrounded by shops and storerooms, bars and apartments, hidden away in the dusty backstreets above the naval base.

Only at night, when the noise of the traffic and the shouts of the tradesmen had fallen silent, was it possible to hear the low, subterranean thunder of falling water, and only if you went into the yard, unlocked the narrow wooden door and descended a few steps into the Piscina itself was it possible to appreciate the reservoir’s full glory.

The vaulted roof was supported by forty-eight pillars, each more than fifty feet high, although most of their length was submerged by the waters of the reservoir. The echo of the aqueduct hammering into the surface was enough to shake your bones.

Kara could stand here, listening and lost in thought, for hours. The percussion of Augusta sounded in her ears not as a dull and continuous roar, but as the notes of a gigantic water-organ: the music of civilisation.

Kara’s first thought on coming down from the hills and into the yard at the end of the afternoon was to check the level of the reservoir. 

It had become her obsession. A way for her to block out old memories.

She groaned in frustration when she realised the door to the reservoir was locked, and then remembered that Lockwood was carrying the key on his belt.

Kara turned away from the Piscina and glanced around the deserted yard. The previous evening she had ordered that the space be tidied and swept while she was away, and she was happy to see that it’d been done. 

The blonde went into the stores, dropped her tools on the floor and rotated her aching shoulder, before wiping her face on the sleeve of her tunic. She re-entered the yard just as Lockwood and the others trooped in.

They headed straight for the drinking fountain without bothering to acknowledge her, taking turns to gulp the water and splash their heads and bodies. Lockwood, then Mike, then William. The two slaves, Brainy and Winn, squatted patiently in the shade, waiting until the free men had finished.

Kara knew she had lost face during the course of the day. But still, she could live with their hostility. Her mind kept drifting back to her dead family, and then James. She’d lived with worse things than a few disobedient men. 

She shouted to Lockwood that they could finish work for the day, and was rewarded with a mocking bow. 

Ignoring him, Kara started to climb the narrow wooden staircase to her living quarters.

The yard was a quadrangle. Its northern side was taken up by the wall of the Piscina. To the west and south were storerooms and the administrative offices of the aqueduct. To the east was the living accommodation: a barracks for the slaves on the ground floor, and an apartment for the aquarius above it.

Lockwood and the other free men lived in the town with their families.

Kara pondered to herself. Maybe, in due course, she could probably move into Misenum and rent a house. But for the time being she was stuck sleeping in the cramped bachelor accommodation of her predecessor, Snapper Carr, whose few possessions she’d moved into the small spare room at the end of the passage.

_ What had happened to Snapper?  _

That had been Kara’s first question when she arrived in the port. Surprisingly, nobody had had an answer, or, if they had, they weren’t about to pass it on to her. The blonde’s enquiries were all met by silence. 

It seemed that Snapper, a Sicilian who had run the Augusta for nearly twenty years, had simply walked out one morning more than two weeks ago and had not been heard of since.

Ordinarily, the department of the Curator Aquarum in Rome, which administered the aqueducts in Latium and Campania, would have been willing to let matters lie for a while. But given the drought, and the strategic importance of the Augusta, it had been thought prudent to dispatch an immediate replacement.

Kara had been summoned by the Curator Aquarum to his official residence on the Palatine Hill, at the request of the Emperor. With no husband or children to detain her in Rome, the Curator simply asked if she could leave the next day? 

And, of course, Kara had accepted at once. It was a great opportunity to advance in her career! 

She said goodbye to Jeremiah, Eliza and her sister Alex, and the following day she was on the next ferry to Misenum. 

Kara had started to write a letter to them. It currently lay on the nightstand next to her hard wooden bed. She was usually a decent writer, but she’d struggled to place her thoughts down on paper. 

_ ‘I have arrived. The journey was good. The weather is very hot-’ _

That was all she’d managed so far. It gave no hint of the inner turmoil Kara felt within...the pressing sense of responsibility, her fears about the water shortage, the isolation of her position.

The blonde sat on the edge of the mattress. There was a jug of water and a basin beside her bed, with some fruit, a loaf, a pitcher of wine and a slice of hard white cheese. Her belly rumbled.

If there was one thing she loved more than water, it was _ food _ .

She washed herself carefully, before inhaling all the food. The morning’s hard work had left her feeling ravenous. After she’d finished, Kara mixed some wine into the water and drank. 

Then, too exhausted even to remove her shoes and tunic, Kara lay down on the bed, closed her eyes and slipped at once into that dreamland between sleeping and waking. A dreamland in which her father, mother and James endlessly roamed, their voices calling out to her, pleading, urgent:  _ ‘Aquarius! Aquarius!’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you have read Pompeii, then you'll immediately see the similarities of Lex Luthor and Ampliatus. Also, Roman executions were so brutal! I was cringing writing the eel execution...blergh!
> 
> Any questions, fire them my way.


	3. III

James had been around twenty-one when Kara watched his body consigned to the flames of his funeral pyre. 

In her sleep, this particular memory often swirled around in her brain in a never-ending nightmare. In this instance, Kara dreamt that James’ body rose from the pyre, a burned husk, calling out to her.

_ ‘Aquarius!’ _

Startled, her eyes snapped open as she shot up from the mattress in shock. Panting, she tried to settle her mind as she realised it was just another night terror.

“Aquarius!” someone shouted from the yard below.

The awful dream was still lingering in Kara’s mind as she hauled her body up off the bed. Who could be calling out her name?

The engineer peered her head out of the window and looked down to see a young woman, not much older than herself, standing in the yard.

Kara’s heart jumped.

From this angle, she could see that the woman had luscious dark hair, porcelain white skin and a voluptuous figure. She was standing beneath Kara’s window and shouting up.

“Is the aquarius there?”

The sound of raised voices had drawn some of the workmen from the shadows and by the time Kara had reached the bottom of the stairs they had formed a gawking half-circle around the raven-haired stranger.

Kara wasn’t surprised that the men were all staring at the young lady. The blonde couldn’t keep her eyes off her either. 

The stranger was wearing a loose white tunica, open wide at the neck and sleeves. It was a dress to be worn in private by rich women, something which showed a little more of the milky plumpness of the woman’s bare white arms and breasts than a respectable lady would have risked in public.

“I’m the aquarius of the Aqua Augusta,” Kara said, finally answering the woman’’s question.

“But,” the other woman paused, breathless and looking in disbelief at Kara. “You’re a woman! You can’t possibly be the aquarius?”

“Well, I am,” Kara reaffirmed. “How may I...uh...help?”

She locked her eyes with the stranger’s piercing emerald ones. The woman fluttered her eyelashes subconsciously. She clearly had no idea of the effect she was having on Kara and the workmen.

Blushing and clearing her throat, Kara’s eyes flicked behind this beautiful woman, and it was only then that the aquarius realised that she hadn’t come alone. A slave was with her, a skinny, trembling, older woman, whose auburn hair was half pinned up, half tumbling down her back.

Ignoring the slave, Kara turned her attention back to the raven-haired woman. 

She was breathless, and as her chest heaved Kara tried her best to be respectful and not glance down at the smooth skin she had on reveal.

The stranger started to ramble off something about a pool of red mullet that had died that afternoon in her brother’s fish ponds, and poison in the water, and a man who was being fed to the eels, and how Kara must come at once. It was hard to catch all her words.

The blonde held up her hand to interrupt the woman and asked for her name.

“I am Lena Kieran Luthor, sister of Alexander Luthor, of Villa Hortensia,” she announced somewhat impatiently.

At the mention of her brother, Kara noticed Lockwood and some of the men exchange looks.

“You  _ are _ the aquarius...right?” Lena asked again, still unsure if the blonde was telling the truth.

“The aquarius isn’t here!” Lockwood joked. 

Kara waved him away, annoyed. 

“I am in charge of the aqueduct,  _ yes _ ,” the blonde insisted.

“Then come with me!” 

Lena began walking towards the gate and seemed surprised when Kara didn’t immediately follow. The men were starting to laugh at her now. Mike did an impersonation of her swaying hips, tossing his head grandly.

“Oh  _ aquarius _ , come with me,” he said in a mocking voice that was meant to resemble Lena’s.

The other men snorted. Lena turned, with tears of frustration glinting in her eyes. Kara’s heart ached for the woman. She wanted to help her.

“Lena Luthor,” Kara called out patiently and not unkindly, “I might not be able to afford to eat red mullet, but I know they’re sea-water fish. I’m sorry, but I have no responsibility for the sea.”

Lockwood grinned and pointed at Kara. 

“Do you hear that? She thinks you’re Neptune!” 

There was more laughter. The blonde told them sharply to be quiet.

“My brother is putting a man to death. The slave was screaming for the aquarius. That’s all I know. You’re his only hope. Will you come or not?” Lena asked, deflated.

“Wait,” Kara said. She nodded towards the older woman, who had her hands pressed to her face and was crying, her head bowed. “Who’s this?” 

“This is Andrea, his lover.” The men were quiet now. “Do you see?” 

Lena reached out and touched Kara’s arm. 

“Come,” she said quietly. “Please.”

“Does your brother know where you are?” Lockwood asked in a serious tone, no longer teasing.

“No,” Lena mumbled. 

The overseer turned to Kara. 

“Don’t interfere, that’s my advice.”

And usually, it would be wise advice. If someone took a stand every time they heard of a slave being cruelly treated, they would have no time to eat or sleep. A sea-water pool full of dead mullet? That was nothing to do with the aquarius.

The blonde glanced at Lena again. She was actually  _ asking _ for Kara.

There was a feeling that Kara couldn’t quite shake. Bad omens perhaps?

Vapour that jerked like a fishing line. Springs that ran back into the earth. An aquarius who vanished into the hot air. On the pastured lower slopes of Mount Vesuvius, shepherds had reported seeing giants. In Herculaneum, according to the men, a woman had given birth to a baby with fins instead of feet. 

And now an entire pool of red mullet had died in Misenum, in the space of a single afternoon, of no apparent cause. Kara scratched her ear.

“How far away is this villa?” 

Lena’s face lit up with renewed hope.

“Please, it’s just a few hundred paces. No distance at all!”

She tugged at the blonde’s arm, and Kara found herself allowing the other woman to pull her along. She was not an easy woman to resist, Lena Luthor. 

Maybe Kara should at least walk Lena back to her family? It was hardly safe for a woman of class to be out in the streets of a naval town. At least with the aquarius, she had some form of protection?

With her mind made up, Kara shouted over her shoulder to Lockwood to follow, but the overseer simply shrugged.

“Don’t interfere!” he repeated.

And then Kara, almost before she realised what was happening, was out of the gate and into the street, and the men were lost from sight.

\--

It was that time of day, an hour or so before dusk, when the people of the Mediterranean began emerging from their houses. 

Not that the town had lost much of its heat, the stones were like bricks from a kiln. Old women sat on stools beside their porches, fanning themselves, while the men stood at the bars, drinking and talking. 

A few of them threw a couple of weird looks their way, bewildered at the sight of three women running through the crowded streets. Lena was mounting the steps quickly, her skirts gathered up in either hand, her slippers soft and soundless on the stone, Andrea running on ahead. 

Kara followed behind them. 

“A few hundred paces,” she muttered to herself, “no distance at all...she just failed to mention that it’s all uphill!” 

Her tunic was glued to her back by sweat.

Eventually, the ground levelled out and before them was a long high wall with an arched gate set into it, surmounted by two wrought-iron dolphins leaping to exchange a kiss. Lena and the slave hurried through the unguarded entrance, and Kara, after a glance around, followed.

The villa itself was sprawled below on a series of terraces; its back to the hillside, its face to the bay, built solely for this sublime panorama. Moored to a jetty was a twenty-oared luxury cruiser, painted crimson and gold, with a carpeted deck to match.

Kara had little time to register much else, apart from this engulfing blueness, before they were off again, Lena in front now, leading the aquarius down, past statues, fountains, watered lawns, across a mosaic floor and out onto a terrace with a swimming pool. An inflatable ball turned gently against the pool’s tiled surround as if abandoned in mid-game. 

She was suddenly struck by how deserted the great house seemed and when Lena gestured to the balustrade, and Kara laid her hands cautiously on the stone parapet and leaned over, she saw why. Most of the household was gathered along the seashore.

It took a while for Kara to process the scene before her.

The setting was a fishery, as she had expected, but much bigger than she had imagined. And it looked old, probably built in the last years of the Republic. A group of men was staring at something in the water, an object which one of them was prodding with a boat-hook.

Kara had to shield her eyes to make them out, and as she studied them more closely she felt his stomach sink. It reminded her of the moment of the kill at the amphitheatre, the stillness of it and the erotic complicity between crowd and victim.

Behind her, the slave -  _ Andrea, was it? _ \- started making a noise. A soft wail of grief and despair. Kara took a step backwards and turned towards Lena, shaking her head.

_ They were too late. _

Kara wanted nothing more than to escape. She longed to return to simple practicalities of her profession. There was nothing she could do here.

But Lena was in her way, standing very close. 

“Please,” she said, gesturing to the poor slave woman. “Help her.” 

Lena’s eyes were green, greener than any that Kara had ever seen before. They seemed to collect the greenness of the surrounding hills across the bay and fire it back at her. 

_ Gods _ , she could get lost in those eyes.

The aquarius hesitated, set her jaw, then turned and reluctantly looked out to sea again.

Kara forced her gaze down from the horizon, deliberately glancing at what was happening at the pool. She let it travel back towards the shore, and tried to look at the whole thing with a professional eye. She saw wooden sluice-gates. Iron handles to raise them. Metal lattices over some of the ponds to keep the fish from escaping. 

There were also gangways, pipes... _ pipes! _

The blonde paused, then swung around again to squint at the hillside. 

The rising and falling of the waves would wash through metal grilles, set into the concrete sides of the fish pools, beneath the surface, to prevent the pens becoming stagnant. That much she knew. But pipes...she cocked her head, beginning to understand.

_ ‘The pipes must carry freshwater down from the land, to mix with the seawater, to make it slightly salter. Like the water is in a lagoon,’ _ Kara thought. 

An artificial lagoon. The perfect conditions for rearing fish. And the most sensitive of fish to rear, a delicacy reserved only for the very rich, was red mullet.

Turning back to Lena, the blonde asked quietly, “Where does the aqueduct connect to the house?”

Lena shook her head, “I’m not sure.” 

_ ‘It would have to be big with a place this size,’ _ Kara thought.

The blonde knelt beside the swimming pool, scooped up a palmful of the warm water, tasted it, frowning, swilled it round in her mouth like a connoisseur of wine. It was clean, as far as she could judge. But then again, that might mean nothing. She tried to remember when she had last checked the outflow of the aqueduct. Not since the previous evening, before she went to bed.

“What time did the fish die?” Kara asked.

Lena glanced at the slave woman, expecting her to answer, but she was lost to her grief. 

“I don’t know. Maybe two hours ago?” Lena answered instead.

“ _ Two hours?! _ ” Kara yelped back in alarm.

Without explanation, she vaulted over the balustrade onto the lower terrace beneath and started to stride towards the shore.

\--

Down at the water’s edge, the entertainment had not lived up to its promise. But then these days, what did? 

Lex felt increasingly that he had reached some point...age, was it, or wealth...when the arousal of anticipation just didn’t live up to expectations. The voice of the victim cries out, the blood spurts and then what? Just another useless death.

The best part had been the beginning. 

The slow preparation, followed by the long period when the slave had merely floated, his face just above the surface, not wanting to attract any attention from what was beneath him, concentrating, treading water.

Amusing. Even so, the time had dragged in the heat, and Lex had started to think that this whole business with eels was overrated and that it wasn’t quite as stylish as he had imagined.

But, you could always rely on the cruel tales of aristocracy!

Just as he was preparing to abandon the whole thing, the water had begun to twitch. 

_ Plop!  _

The slave’s face had disappeared, like a fisherman’s plunging float, only to bob up again for an instant, wearing a look of comical surprise and then vanishing altogether.  That expression, in retrospect, had been the climax. After that, it had all become rather boring and uncomfortable to watch in the heat of the afternoon sun.

Lex took off his straw hat that was covering his bald head and fanned his face. Just as he was about to ask for a refill of wine in his cup, he was distracted by a shout from behind him. 

There was a stir among the assembled slaves and Lex shifted further round in his chair. 

Was that… _ a woman!?! _

A young lady, who he didn’t recognise, was striding down the steps from the villa waving her arm above her head and calling out.

\--

The principles of engineering were simple and universal anywhere in the world. In Rome, in Gaul, in Campania...it was what Kara liked about them. 

Even as she ran, the blonde was envisaging what she could not see.

The main line of the aqueduct would be up in that hill at the back of the villa, buried a yard beneath the surface, running on an axis north-to-south, from the town of Baiae down to the  _ Piscina Mirabilis _ . And whoever had owned the villa when the Aqua Augusta was built, more than a century ago, would almost certainly have run two pipes off it.

One of the pipes would lead to a big tank to feed the house, the swimming pool and the garden fountains. If there was contamination, it might take as long as a day for it to work through the system, depending on the size of the tank. But the other pipe would channel a share of Augusta’s water directly down to the fishery to wash through the various ponds.

Simply put; if there was any problem with the aqueduct's water, it would immediately affect the fish ponds.

The master of the household, Lex, presumably, was rising in astonishment from his chair as Kara ran towards them. The spectators now with their backs turned to the pool, all had their eyes on her as she sprinted down the final flight of steps. She ran on to the concrete ramp of the fishery, slowing as she approached Lex but not stopping.

“Pull him out!” the blonde shouted as he ran past him. 

Lex, his face livid, shouted something at her back.

“What is the meaning of this _girl!?_ ” he seethed.

Kara turned, still running, trotting backwards now, holding up her palms. 

“Please, just pull him out. I’ll explain everything in a minute.”

Lex’s mouth gaped open, but then, still glaring at Kara, he slowly raised his hand. 

It was a gesture which set off a chain of activity, as though everyone had been waiting for exactly such a signal. 

The steward of the household put two fingers to his mouth and whistled at the slave with the boat-hook, and made an upwards motion with his hand, at which the slave swung round and flung the end of his pole towards the surface of the eel pond, hooked something and began to drag it in.

Kara was almost at the pipes. As she got closer, she realised they were larger than they had looked from the terrace. A pair of terracotta pipes, more than a foot in diameter. They emerged from the slope, traversed the ramp together, parted company at the edge of the water, then ran in opposite directions along the side of the fishery.

She noticed there was a loose piece of pipe, two feet long, cut crossways. As the blonde reached them she could see that one had been disturbed and not replaced properly. A chisel lay nearby as if whoever had been using it had been disturbed.

Kara knelt and jammed the tool into the gap, working it up and down until it had penetrated most of the way, then twisted it, so that the flat edge gave her enough space to fit her fingers underneath the cover and pull it off. 

She lifted it away and pushed it over, not caring how heavy it fell on the ground. Her face was directly over the running water and she smelt something almost immediately.

Released from the confined space of the pipe, it was strong enough to make her want to retch. 

An unmistakable smell of rotten eggs...the breath of Hades _.  _

_ Sulphur. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kara is starting to realise something is seriously wrong with the aqueduct and the water...but what could be causing it? ;)
> 
> Also, as awful as it is to write punishments, like the horrible execution that Lex inflicted on Russell, did in fact happen to slaves all across the Roman Empire. I hate having to describe it, as I'm sure Robert Harris did when he wrote this book! For historical accuracy, I'm keeping elements of this in to show how brutal Roman life actually was. It wasn't as glamourous as some people will have you believe!
> 
> Anyway, thanks for the support so far!


	4. IV

The poor slave was dead. That much was obvious, even from a distance. 

Kara, crouching beside the open pipe, saw the remains hauled out of the eel pond and covered with a sack. She saw the audience disperse as they made their way back up to the villa. At the same time as the auburn-haired slave woman threaded her way between them, heading in the opposite direction, down towards the sea.

The others avoided looking at her and left a space around her as if she had some sort of disease. As Andrea reached the dead man, she flung up her hands to the sky and began rocking silently from side to side.

Lex didn’t even spare her a glance. Instead, he was walking purposefully towards Kara. 

Lena was behind him shuffling along nervously, followed by a few of what the blonde presumed were some of Lex’s household slaves. A couple of them had knives at their belts. 

Kara returned her attention to the water. 

Was it her imagination or was the pressure slackening? The smell was certainly much less obvious now that the surface was open to the air. She plunged her hands into the flow, frowning, trying to gauge the strength of it, as it twisted and flexed beneath her fingers, like a muscle, like a living thing.

The aqueduct, the immense Aqua Augusta, seemed to be dying in her hands. A voice called out to her. 

“You are on my property girl!” 

The aquarius looked up to find Lex staring down at her. The villa’s owner was in his late forties. Lex was somewhat short, but broad-shouldered and had this powerful aura about him. 

“ _ My property! _ ” he repeated furiously.

“Your property, yes,” Kara began. “But the Emperor’s water.” 

The blonde stood and wiped her wet hands on her tunic. The waste of so much precious liquid in the middle of a drought, and all to pamper a rich man’s fish? That made her angry.

“You need to close the sluices to the aqueduct. There’s sulphur in the matrix and red mullet can’t survive in water that's impure.  _ That- _ ” she emphasised the word “-is what killed your precious fish.”

Lex tilted his head back slightly, sniffing the insult. He had a fine, rather cunning look on his face. His eyes were the same shade of green as his sister’s. 

“And who are you exactly? Did your father not teach you respect in your house?” 

“Kara Zor-El, I am the Aquarius of the Aqua Augusta.”

“ _ You? The Aquarius? _ Don’t lie to me girl,” Lex snarled.

“I’m not lying. I was sent by the Curator Aquarum on the orders of Emperor Titus himself,” Kara insisted.

She snook a glance at Lena, who was standing behind her brother, wearing the same face of disbelief as she was earlier in the yard.

“Zor-El,” The millionaire frowned. “What happened to Snapper Carr?”

“I wish I knew,” the blonde shrugged. 

“But surely Snapper is still the aquarius? The Emperor wouldn’t send a woman to do a man’s job!”

_ ‘Damn patriarchy,’ _ Kara thought to herself. 

“Well, he has. I am now the aquarius,” the engineer was in no mood to give Lex any kind of respect. “If you’ll excuse me, I must get back to Misenum. There’s an emergency on the aqueduct.”

“What sort of emergency? Is it an omen?” Lex asked, curious.

“You could say that,” Kara replied curtly. 

She made to go, but Lex moved swiftly to one side, blocking her way. 

“You insult me,” he accused. “On my property. In front of my family. And now you try to leave without offering any sort of apology?”

Lex brought his face so close to Kara’s that the engineer could see the sweat beading above his non-existent hairline. He smelled of crocus oil, the most expensive perfume.

“Who gave you permission to come here,  _ girl _ ?” he snarled.

“If I’ve offended you-’ began Kara. But then she remembered the body of the dead slave and the apology choked in her throat. “Get out of my way!”

Kara tried to push her way past, but Lex grabbed both of her arms and someone drew a knife. Another instant, she realised, a single thrust, and it would all be over. 

“She came because of me Lex!” Lena admitted, shouting to get his attention. “I invited her.” 

“What?” the aristocrat wheeled round on his sister.

What he might have done, whether he would have hit Lena, Kara would never know, as suddenly a terrible screaming started. Advancing along the ramp came the auburn-haired slave, Andrea.

She had smeared her face, her arms, and her dress with her lover’s blood and her hand was pointing straight ahead, the first and last of her fingers rigidly extended. She was shouting in a language Kara didn’t understand. But then she didn’t need to: a curse is a curse in any tongue, and this one was directed straight at Lex.

Lex let go of the blonde’s arm and turned to face the slave, absorbing the full force of it, with an expression of indifference. And then, as her words began to stop, he laughed. There was silence for a moment, then the other slaves began to laugh as well. 

Kara glanced at Lena, who gave a slight nod and gestured with her eyes to the villa.

_ ‘I’ll be alright,’ _ she seemed to be saying. _ ‘Go!’ _

That was the last that Kara saw or heard, as she turned her back on the scene and started mounting the path up to the house, two steps, three steps at a time, running on legs of lead, like someone escaping in a dream.

\--

An aqueduct was the work of mankind, but it obeyed the laws of Nature.

Engineers might trap a creak or a spring and divert it from its intended course, but once it had begun to flow, it ran, ineluctable, remorseless, and at an average speed of two and a half miles per hour.

Kara was powerless to prevent it from polluting Misenum’s water. She hoped that somehow the sulphur was confined to the  _ Villa Hortensia _ , that the leak was in the pipework beneath the house, and that Lex’s property was merely an isolated pocket on the beautiful curve of the bay.

That hope lasted for as long as it took her to sprint down the hill to the  _ Piscina Mirabilis _ . She’d summoned Lockwood from the barracks, interrupting a game he was playing with Mike and William, to explain what had happened. 

Here Kara was now, waiting impatiently while the overseer unlocked the door to the reservoir. All hope died the moment that Lockwood opened the reservoir. They were stunned to see that it had evaporated, wafted away by the same rank smell that she’d detected in the pipe at the fishery.

“It stinks!’ Lockwood blew out his cheeks in disgust. “This must’ve been building up for hours.” 

“Two hours, to be precise,” Kara replied. 

“Two hours?” The overseer could not quite disguise his satisfaction. “You mean when you had us up in the hills?”

“And if we’d been here? What difference could we have made?” Kara snapped, as she descended a couple of the steps, the back of her hand pressed to her nose. 

The light of day was fading. Out of sight, beyond the pillars, she could hear the aqueduct falling into the reservoir, but with nothing like its normal force. It was as she had suspected at the fishery: the pressure was dropping, and fast.

Kara called up to the slave, Brainy, who was waiting at the top of the steps. She told him that she wanted a few things fetched; a torch, a plan of the aqueduct’s main line and one of the stoppered bottles from the storeroom, which they used for taking water samples. 

Brainy gave her a curt nod before trotting off obediently. While she waited, Kara peered into the gloom, glad that Lockwood could not see her expression.

“How long have you worked on the Augusta, Lockwood?”

“Twenty years,” came his gruff reply.

“Anything like this ever happened before?” 

“ _ Never. _ You’ve brought us bad luck.”

Keeping one hand on the wall, Kara made her way cautiously down the remaining steps to the reservoir’s edge. The splash of water falling from the mouth of the Augusta, together with the smell and the melancholy light of the day’s last hour, made her feel as if she were descending into hell. 

There was even a rowing boat moored at her feet: a suitable ferry to carry her across the Styx. The aquarius tried to make a joke of it, to disguise the panic that she was feeling inside. 

“Hey, maybe you can be my  _ Charon! _ ” she chucked, directing it at Lockwood. “Although, I don’t have a coin to pay you.”

“Well then, you’re doomed to wander in hell forever,” the overseer deadpanned.

Ok, she had to admit that was pretty funny. Now, where was Brainy?

“Brainy! Get a move on!” she shouted back up towards the yard.

“I’m on my way aquarius!” came the muffled reply.

The slim outline of the young slave appeared in the doorway, holding a taper and a torch. He ran down and handed them to Kara, who touched the glowing tip to the mass of tow and pitch. It ignited with a _wumph_ and a gust of oily heat. Their shadows danced on the concrete walls.

Kara stepped carefully into the boat, holding the torch aloft, then turned to collect the rolled-up plans and the glass bottle. The boat was light, used for maintenance work in the reservoir, and when Lockwood climbed aboard it dipped low in the water.

_ ‘I need to keep calm,’ _ the blonde thought.  _ ‘I can’t show panic in front of Lockwood.’ _

“If this had happened when Snapper was here, what would he have done?” she asked the overseer.

“I don’t know, but I’ll tell you one thing. He knew this water better than anyone. He would have seen this coming.” 

“Maybe he did, and that’s why he ran away?” 

“Snapper was no coward. He didn’t run anywhere,” Lockwood insisted. 

“Then where is he?” 

“I’ve told you a hundred times blondie, I don’t know.”

The overseer leaned across, untied the rope from its mooring ring and pushed them away from the steps, then turned to sit facing Kara. He reached and took up the oars. Lockwood’s face in the torchlight made him look older than his forty years. He had a wife and a son crammed into a tiny apartment across the street from the reservoir. 

The blonde wondered why Lockwood hated her so much. Was it simply because of her gender? Was it that she had been given the post of aquarius and he resented the arrival of someone younger from Rome? Or was there something more?

Kara told him to row them towards the centre of the Piscina. When they reached it she handed him the torch, uncorked the bottle and rolled up the sleeves of her tunic. How often had she seen her father do this, in the subterranean reservoir of the Claudia and the Anio Novus on the Esquiline Hill in Rome? Her old man had shown her how each aqueduct had its own flavour, as distinct from another as different vintages of wine.

_ ‘A good aquarius,’ _ her father had said.  _ ‘Should know more than just the solid laws of architecture and hydraulics. They should have a taste, a nose, a feel for water, and for the rocks and soils through which it had passed on its journey to the surface. Lives might depend on this skill, Kara.’ _

An image of her father flashed into Kara’s mind. Killed before he was fifty by a house fire that had also taken her mother and Kal’s parents. She pushed her panic down about the aqueduct and thought of him. He would have known what to do. 

Holding the bottle so that its top was face down to the water, Kara stretched over the side and plunged it in as far as she could, then slowly turned it underwater, letting the air escape in a stream of bubbles. She recorked it and withdrew it. Settled back in the boat, the blonde opened the bottle again and passed it back and forth beneath her nose. She took a mouthful, gargled and swallowed.

Kara cringed. It was bitter, but just about drinkable. 

She passed it to Lockwood who swapped it for the torch and gulped the whole lot down in one go. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“It’ll do,” he said. “That is if you mix it with enough wine.”

The boat bumped against a pillar and the aquarius suddenly noticed the widening line between the dry and damp concrete. The reservoir was draining away faster than the Augusta could fill her. 

Panic again.  _ Fight it! _

“What’s the capacity of the Piscina?” she asked Lockwood. 

“Two hundred and eighty _quinariae_.”

Kara raised the torch towards the roof, which disappeared into the shadows about fifteen feet above them. So that meant the water was perhaps thirty-five feet deep, the reservoir two-thirds full. Suppose it now held two hundred _quinariae._

In Rome, they worked on the basis that one  _ quinaria _ was roughly the daily requirement of two hundred people. The naval garrison at Misenum was ten thousand strong, plus, say, another ten thousand civilians. A simple enough calculation. 

They had enough water for two days.

That was assuming they could ration the flow to perhaps an hour at dawn and another at dusk. And assuming the concentration of sulphur at the bottom of the Piscina was as weak as it was at the top.

_ ‘Think Kara, think!’ _

Sulphur in a natural spring was warm and therefore rose to the surface. But sulphur when it had cooled to the same temperature as the surrounding water...what did that do? Did it disperse? Or float? Or sink?

Kara glanced towards the northern end of the reservoir, where the Augusta emerged. 

“We should check the pressure,” she stated.

As Lockwood rowed them towards the falling water, Kara looked over the plans of the aqueduct, searching for a possible source of the sulphur.

Lockwood let the boat glide for a moment, then rowed a few deft strokes in the opposite direction, bringing them to halt precisely beside a pillar. Kara laid aside the plans and raised the torch. It flashed on an emerald sheen of green mould, then lit the giant head of Neptune, carved in stone, from whose mouth the Augusta normally gushed in a jet-black torrent.

But even in the time it had taken to row from the steps, the flow had dwindled. It was barely more than a trickle.

Lockwood gave a soft whistle. 

“I never thought I’d live to see the Augusta dry. You were right to be worried, blondie.” 

He looked at Kara and for the first time, she noticed that there was a flash of fear across his face. 

“So what stars were you born under, that you’ve brought this down on us?”

The engineer was finding it difficult to breathe. 

_'It's not possible,'_ she thought. 

Aqueducts did not just fail! Not like this, and not in a matter of hours.

The usual problems – structural flaws, leaks, lime deposits that narrowed the channel – all these needed months, even  _ years _ to develop. It had taken the  _ Agua Claudi _ a a full decade gradually to close down.

Kara’s thoughts were interrupted by a shout from Brainy. 

“Aquarius!” he yelled, his voice echoing in the dark.

She half-turned her head. Kara couldn't see the steps for the pillars, which seemed to rise like petrified oaks from some dark and foul-smelling swamp. 

“What is it?” she hollered back. 

“There’s a rider in the yard! He has a message that the aqueduct has failed!”

“We can see that for ourselves, you idiot,” Lockwood muttered. 

Kara reached for the plans again. 

“Which town has he come from?” 

She expected Brainy to shout back Baiae or Cumae; the towns nearest to Misenum. Puteoli at the very worst. Neapolis would be a complete disaster. But the reply he gave was like a punch in the stomach. 

“Nola!”

\--

The messenger was covered in so much dust that he looked more ghost than man. 

He told them of how the water had failed in Nola’s reservoir at dawn and of how the failure had been preceded by a sharp smell of sulphur that had started in the middle of the night. And even as he told his story, a fresh sound of hooves was heard on the road outside just before a second horse trotted into the yard.

The rider dismounted smartly and offered a rolled papyrus. A message from the city rulers at Neapolis. The Augusta had gone down there at noon.

Kara read it carefully, managing to keep her face expressionless. 

There was quite a crowd in the yard by now. Two horses, a pair of riders, surrounded by the gang of aqueduct workers who had abandoned their evening meal to listen to what was happening. The commotion was beginning to attract the attention of passers-by in the street, as well as some of the local shopkeepers.

“Hey, girl!” shouted the owner of the snack bar opposite. “What’s going on?”

_ ‘It’d wouldn’t take much for people to start to panic,’ _ Kara thought.

She could feel a fresh spark of it within herself. The blonde called to a couple of slaves to close the gates to the yard and told Brainy to see to it that the two messengers were given food and drink. 

“Mike, William, get hold of a cart and start loading it. Quicklime, puteolanum, tools. Everything we might need to repair the matrix. As much as we can.”

The two men looked at one another. 

“But we don’t know what the damage is,” Mike objected. 

“One cartload might not be enough,” William pointed out. 

“Then we’ll pick up extra material as we pass through Nola,” Kara replied, leaving them both to do as she’d asked.

She strode towards the aqueduct’s office, the messenger from Nola at her heels.

“But, what should I tell them?” his panicked high-pitched voice asked.

The rider was scarcely more than a boy. The hollows of his eyes were the only part of his face not caked with dirt, the soft pink discs emphasising his fearful look. 

“The priests want to sacrifice to Neptune. They say the sulphur is a terrible omen.” 

“Then tell them that we’re aware of the problem,” Kara gestured vaguely with the plans. “And we’re organising repairs.”

The blonde ducked through the low entrance into the small cubicle. Her predecessor, Snapper, had left the Augusta’s records in chaos. 

Bills of sale, receipts and invoices, promissory notes, legal stipulations and opinions, engineers’ reports and storeroom inventories, letters from the department of the Curator Aquarum and orders from the naval commander in Misenum (some of them twenty or thirty years old) spilled out of chests, across a table and over the concrete floor.

Kara swept the table clear with her elbow and unrolled the plans. Nola! How was this possible? Nola was a big town, thirty miles to the east of Misenum, and nowhere near the sulphur fields. 

She used her thumb to mark out the distances. With a cart and oxen, it would take them the best part of two days just to reach it. The map showed her as clearly as a painting how the calamity must have spread, the matrix emptying with mathematical precision. 

The engineer traced it with her finger, her lips moving silently. Two and a half miles per hour!

If Nola had gone down at dawn, then the next two towns along the aqueduct, Acerrae and Atella, would have followed in the middle of the morning. If Neapolis, twelve miles round the coast from Misenum, had lost its supply at noon, then Puteoli must have gone at the next hour, then Cumae, then Baiae, and now, at last, it was their turn.

Eight towns down. Only Pompeii, a few miles upstream from Nola, so far unaccounted for. But even without it: more than two hundred thousand people without water. 

She suddenly became aware of the entrance behind her darkening, of Lockwood coming up and leaning against the door frame, watching her. Kara rolled up the map and tucked it under her arm. 

“Give me the key to the sluices.”

“Why?” came the overseer’s defying reply.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to shut off the reservoir,” Kara told him.

“But that’s the navy’s water. You can’t do that!” Lockwood said. “Not without the authority of the admiral.” 

“Then why don’t you get the authority of the admiral? I’m closing those sluices.” 

For the second time that day, their faces were inches apart.

“Listen to me,  _ Ben _ ,” she began through gritted teeth. “The Piscina Mirabilis is a strategic reserve. Understand? That’s what it’s there for, to be shut off in an emergency. Every moment we waste arguing we lose more water. Now give me the key, or you’ll answer for it in Rome.”

“Very well. Have it your way, blondie.” 

Without taking his eyes from Kara’s face, he removed the key from the ring on his belt. 

“I’ll go and see the admiral all right. I’ll tell him what’s been going on...and then we’ll see who answers for what!”

Kara snatched the key and pushed sideways past him, out into the yard. She shouted to Brainy.

“Close the gates after me. No one is to be let in without my permission.” 

“Yes, aquarius.”

There was still a crowd of curious onlookers in the street but they cleared a path to let her through. Kara ignored their questions. Washing hung above her head, strung between the walls. People turned to stare at her as she jostled them out of her way.

The building that housed the sluice-gate was a small redbrick cube, barely taller than a man. Kara turned the key in the lock and tugged angrily at the heavy wooden door.

She was level now with the floor of the Piscina Mirabilis. Water from the reservoir poured under pressure down a tunnel in the wall, through a bronze grille, swirled in the open conduit at her feet, and then was channelled into three pipes that fanned out and disappeared under the flagstones behind her, carrying the supply down to the port and town of Misenum.

The flow was controlled by a sluice-gate, set flush with the wall, worked by a wooden handle attached to an iron wheel. It was stiff from lack of use. Kara had to pound it with the heel of her hand to loosen it, but when she put her back into it, it began to turn.

The gate descended, gradually choking off the flow of water until at last, it ceased altogether, leaving a smell of moist dust.

Only a puddle remained, evaporating so rapidly in the heat she could see it shrinking. The engineer bent down and dabbed her fingers in the wet patch, then touched them to her tongue. No taste of sulphur.

_ ‘No going back now,’ _ she thought. 

Kara had deprived the navy of its water, in a drought, without authority, three days into her first command. Men had been stripped of their rank and sent to the treadmills for lesser crimes. How would the admiral treat a woman?

It suddenly occurred to Kara that she’d been a fool to let Lockwood inform the admiral. Even now the overseer would be making sure she got the blame.

Locking the door to the chamber, Kara glanced up and down the busy street. Nobody was paying her any attention. They didn’t have a clue what was about to happen. The blonde felt herself to be in possession of some immense secret. 

She headed down a narrow alley towards the harbour, keeping close to the wall, eyes on the gutter, avoiding people’s gaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh has Kara pissed off the admiral? Is she in trouble? Will she ever see Lena again? Find out in the next chapter...coming soon.
> 
> *note: 'quinariae' = a Roman unit of area, roughly equal to 4.2 square centimetres. Its primary use was to measure the cross-sectional area of pipes in water distribution systems.


	5. V

The admiral’s villa was on the far side of Misenum. To reach it the engineer had to travel the best part of half a mile, walking, mostly, with occasional panicky bursts of running.

Kara had been warned about the admiral before she left Rome. 

_ ‘The commander-in-chief is Gaius Plinius,’ _ the Curator Aquarum had told her.  _ ‘Pliny. You’ll come across him sooner or later. He thinks he knows everything about everything. Perhaps he does. You’ll need to flatter him to win him over. You should take a look at his latest book, ‘The Natural History.’ Every known fact about Mother Nature in thirty-seven volumes.’  _

There was a copy in the public library back in Rome. Kara had time to read no more than the table of contents. 

There were other books by Pliny in the library. Six volumes on architecture. Eight on grammar. Twenty volumes on the war in Germany, in which Pliny had commanded a cavalry unit. Thirty volumes on the recent history of the Empire, which he had served as procurator in Spain and Belgian Gaul.

Kara wondered how he managed to write so much and rise so high in the imperial administration at the same time. 

The Curator had said,  _ ‘Because he doesn’t have a wife.’ _ And then he’d laughed at his own joke. _ ‘And he doesn’t sleep, either. Watch that he doesn’t catch you out.’ _

Kara was moving more quickly than the water pipes were emptying and when she passed through the triumphal arch that marked the entrance to the port, she could see that the big public fountain at the crossroads was still flowing.

An overloaded ferry had come to dock alongside the quay. The ferry had barely docked before a throng of passengers scrambled to the shore. Kara called across the street to ask where the ferry was from, and the dock worker shouted back over his shoulder. 

“Neapolis, and before that, Pompeii.” 

_ Pompeii. _

_ ‘Weird,’ _ she thought. 

Weird that they had heard no word from Pompeii, the first town on the aqueduct’s matrix. Kara hesitated, swung round and stepped into the path of the oncoming crowd. 

“Is anyone from Pompeii?” 

She waved the rolled-up plans of the Augusta to attract attention. “Was anyone in Pompeii this morning?” 

But nobody took any notice. They were thirsty after the trip. Of course, they would be! Especially seeing that they’d come from Neapolis, where the water had failed at noon. 

Most passed to either side of her in their eagerness to reach the fountain, all except for one, an elderly holy man, who was walking slowly, scanning the sky.

“I was in Neapolis this afternoon,” he said when Kara stopped him, “but this morning I was in Pompeii. Why? Is there something I can do to help you, dear?”

“Can I ask, holy father,” said the engineer, “when you left Pompeii?” 

“At first light.” 

“And were the fountains running? Was there water?”

So much rested on his answer, Kara was almost afraid to hear it. 

“Yes, there was water.” The holy man frowned. “But when I arrived in Neapolis the streets were dry and in the baths I smelled sulphur. That is why I decided to return to the ferry and to come on here.” 

He squinted again at the sky, searching for birds. 

“Sulphur is a terrible omen.”

“Yes I know,” Kara agreed. “But are you sure? You’re certain that the water was running?” 

“Yes, my dear. I’m sure.” 

There was a commotion around the fountain and both of them turned to look. It started with just some pushing and shoving, but quickly punches were being thrown. The crowd had descended into chaos, and people were scrambling to get whatever water they could.

_ ‘And so it starts,’ _ the blonde thought.

Someone was now yelling that the bastard from Neapolis had pushed to the front and stolen the last of the water. And just like a beast with a single brain and impulse, the crowd turned and began to pour down the narrow lane in pursuit. 

And suddenly, as abruptly as it had begun, the riot was over, leaving behind a scene of smashed and abandoned pots, and a couple of women crouched in the dust, their hands pressed over their heads for protection, close to the edge of the silent fountain.

\--

The admiral’s official residence was set high on the hillside overlooking the harbour and by the time Kara reached it, it was dusk.

A marine centurion in full uniform of breastplate and crested helmet, with a sword swinging at his belt, scurried away as the engineer was led to where the admiral was. The remains of a large meal were being cleared from a stone table beneath a pergola. 

At first, she didn’t see Pliny, but the instant the slave announced her -  _ ‘Kara Zor-El, aquarius of the Aqua Augusta!’ _ \- a stocky man in his middle fifties at the far end of the terrace turned on his heel.

The admiral came waddling towards her, followed by what Kara assumed were the guests of his abandoned dinner party. Four men sweating in togas, at least one of whom, judging by the purple stripe on his formal dress, was a senator. Behind them came Lockwood, with an evil grin plastered on his face.

She had for some reason imagined that the famous admiral would be thin, but Pliny was fat. His belly was protruding sharply, like the ramming post of one of his warships. He was dabbing at his forehead with his napkin. 

“Shall I arrest you now, girl? I could, you know, that’s already clear enough.” 

He had a fat man’s voice: a high-pitched wheeze, which became even hoarser as he counted off the charges on his pudgy fingers.

“Incompetence to start with, who can doubt that? Negligence, where were you when the sulphur infected the water? Insubordination, on what authority did you shut off our supply? Treason, yes, I could make a charge of treason. What about fomenting rebellion in the imperial dockyards? I’ve had to order out a century of marines, fifty to break some heads in the town and try to restore public order, the other fifty to the reservoir, to guard whatever water’s left. Treason-”

He broke off, short of breath. With his puffed-out cheeks, pursed lips and grey curls plastered down with sweat, he had the appearance of an elderly, furious cherub. 

The youngest of his guests, a pimply lad in his late teens, stepped forward to support his arm, but Pliny shrugged him away.

Behind the group, Lockwood grinned, showing a mouthful of teeth. He had been even more effective at spreading lies than Kara had expected.

“Who are you anyway?” Pliny eventually managed to rasp out. “I don’t know you, you’re far too young! What’s happened to the actual aquarius? What was his name again?” 

“Snapper,” said Lockwood. 

“ _ Ah yes _ , Snapper. Where’s he?” Pliny demanded. “And what does Rome think they’re playing at, sending us women to do men’s work?  _ Well?  _ Speak up girl! What have you to say for yourself?”

Kara glanced behind the admiral to see Vesuvius in the distance across the bay. It formed a perfect natural pyramid, with just that little crust of light from the waterfront villas running around its base. In a couple of places the line bulged slightly and those, the engineer guessed, must be towns. 

She recognised them from the map. The one she could see closest would be Herculaneum; the more distant, Pompeii. Kara straightened her back. 

“I need,” she gulped, “to borrow a ship.”

\--

Kara spread out her map on the table in Pliny’s library, weighing down either side with a couple of pieces of fancy-looking crystal rocks which she took from a display cabinet. An elderly slave shuffled behind the admiral’s back, lighting an elaborate bronze candelabrum. 

Even with the doors to the terrace pushed wide open, no breeze came off the sea to dispel the heat. Kara could feel the sweat trickling down the sides of her face, irritating her, like a crawling insect. 

“Tell the ladies we shall rejoin them shortly!” Pliny boomed. He turned away from the slave and nodded at Kara. “All right. Let’s hear it.”

The blonde glanced around at the faces of her audience, lit up by the candlelight. She’d been told their names before they sat down and she wanted to make sure she remembered them.

_ Pedius Cascus _ , a senior senator who had been a consul years ago and who owned a big villa along the coast at Herculaneum. 

_ Pomponianus _ , an old Army comrade of Pliny, rowed over for dinner from his villa across the bay at Stabiae. 

_ Antius _ , captain of the imperial flagship, the Victoria. 

And finally, the pimply teen was Pliny’s nephew,  _ Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus _ .

The young aquarius put her finger on the map and they all leant forward, even Lockwood. 

“This is where I thought originally that the break must be, admiral...here, in the burning fields around Cumae. That would explain the sulphur. But then we learnt that the supply had gone down in Nola as well...over here, to the east. That was at dawn. The timing is crucial because according to a witness who was in Pompeii at first light, the fountains there were still running this morning.”

The admiral nodded in understanding. Kara continued.

“As you can see, Pompeii is some distance back up the matrix from Nola, so logically the Augusta should have failed there in the middle of the night. The fact that it didn’t can only mean one thing. The break has to be here-” she circled the spot, “-somewhere on this five-mile stretch, where the aqueduct runs past close to Vesuvius.”

Pliny frowned at the map. 

“And the ship? Where does that come in?” 

“Well, I believe we have two days’ of water left. If we set off on foot from Misenum to discover what’s happened it will take us at least that long simply to find where the break has happened.  _ But _ if we go by sea to Pompeii, travel light and pick up most of what we need in the town, we should be able to start repairs tomorrow.”

In the ensuing silence, the engineer could hear the steady drip of the water clock beside the doors.

“How many do you have under your command?” Pliny asked. 

“Fifty altogether, but most of those are spread out along the length of the aqueduct, maintaining the settling tanks and the reservoirs in the towns. I have a dozen altogether in Misenum. I’ll take half of those with me. Any other labour we need, I’ll hire in Pompeii.”

“We could let her have a  _ liburnian _ , admiral,” said Captain Antius. “If they leave at first light they could be in Pompeii by the middle of the morning.”

A liburnian was a type of small galley often used for patrols. The nimbleness and speed of the ship would be exactly what they needed.

Lockwood seemed to be panicked by the mere suggestion. 

“With respect, this is just more of her crazy talk, admiral. I wouldn’t pay attention to any of this. For a start, I’d like to know how she’s so sure the water’s still running in Pompeii!”

Kara gritted her teeth.

“I met a holy man down by the docks, admiral. The local ferry had just docked, and he told me he was in Pompeii this morning.” 

“A holy man!” Lockwood mocked. “It’s a shame he didn’t see this whole thing coming!”

The blonde gripped the edge of the table tightly, trying to control her anger at the overseer. He was making things worse.

“All right,” Lockwood continued. “Let’s say she’s telling the truth. Let’s say this is where the break is. I know this part of the aqueduct better than anyone! Five miles long and every foot of it is underground. It’ll take us more than a day just to find out where the water’s stopped.”

“That’s not true!” Kara objected. “With that much water escaping from the matrix, even a blind man could find the break.” 

“With that much water backed up in the tunnel, how do we get inside it to make the repairs?” Lockwood retorted.

“Listen,” growled the engineer. “When we get to Pompeii, we split into three groups.” 

Truth be told, Kara hadn’t really thought her plan through. She was having to make it up as she went along. But she could sense that Captain Antius was with her and the admiral had yet to take his eyes from the map. 

“The first group goes out to the Augusta and follows the spur from Pompeii to its junction with the matrix, before working westwards. Finding where the break is will not be a problem. The second group stays in Pompeii and puts together enough men and materials to carry out the repairs. A third group rides into the mountains, to the springs at Abellinum, with instructions to shut off the Augusta.”

The senator, Pedius Cascus, looked up sharply. 

“Can that be done? In Rome, when an aqueduct has to be closed for repairs, it stays shut down for weeks.” 

“According to the drawings, senator...yes it can.” 

Kara had only just noticed it herself, but she was inspired now. The whole operation was taking shape in her mind even as she described it.

“It appears from this plan that the water flows into a basin with two channels. Most of the water comes west, to us. But a smaller channel runs north, to feed the small town of _ Beneventum _ . If we send all the water north and let the western channel drain off, we can get inside to repair it. The point is, we don’t have to block it and build a temporary diversion, which is what we have to do with the aqueducts in Rome. We can work much more quickly.”

The senator transferred his drooping eyes to Lockwood. 

“Is this true, overseer?” 

“Maybe,” conceded Lockwood grudgingly. 

He seemed to sense he was beaten, but he would not give up without a fight. 

“However, I still maintain she’s talking crap if she thinks we can get all this done in a day or two. Like I said, I know this stretch.

The overseer gestured towards a section of the map.

“We had problems here nearly twenty years ago, at the time of the great earthquake. Snapper was the aquarius, new in the job. He’d just arrived from Rome, his first command, and we worked on it together. All right, it didn’t block the matrix completely, I grant you that...but it still took us weeks to render all the cracks in the tunnel.”

“Earthquake?” Kara asked, puzzled. “What earthquake?” 

She’d never heard of it. 

“Actually, it was  _ seventeen _ years ago,” Pliny’s nephew piped up for the first time. “The earthquake took place on the Nones of February, during the consulship of Regulus and Verginius. Emperor Nero was in Neapolis, performing on stage at the time. Seneca describes the incident. You must-”

“Yes, Gaius,  _ thank you _ ,” the admiral said sharply, cutting off his rambling nephew.

He stared at the map and puffed out his cheeks. 

“I wonder..” he muttered. He shifted round in his chair and shouted at a nearby slave. “Dromo! Bring me my glass of wine. Quickly!”

Pliny propped his chin on his fists and returned his attention to the map. 

“So is this what has damaged the aqueduct? An earthquake?”

“Surely we would have felt it?” objected Captain Antius. “That last quake brought down a good part of Pompeii. They’re still rebuilding. Half the town is a building site. We’ve had no reports of anything on that scale.”

“And yet,” continued Pliny, almost to himself, “this is certainly earthquake weather. A flat sea. A sky so breathless the birds can scarcely fly. In normal times we would anticipate a storm. But when Saturn, Jupiter and Mars are in conjunction with the sun, instead of occurring in the air, the thunder is sometimes unleashed by Nature underground. That is the definition of an earthquake, in my opinion; a thunderbolt hurled from the interior of the world.”

The slave had shuffled up beside him, carrying a tray, in the centre of which stood a large goblet of clear glass, three-quarters full. Pliny grunted and lifted the wine to the candlelight.

Pomponianus, in awe, ran his tongue around his fat lips. 

“I wouldn’t mind another glass myself, Pliny!” 

“In a moment. Watch,”’ Pliny instructed, as he waved the wine back and forth in front of them. 

It was thick and syrupy, the colour of honey. Kara caught the sweet mustiness of its scent as it passed beneath her nose. 

“And now watch more closely.” Pliny set the glass carefully on the table. 

At first, Kara didn't see what point the admiral was trying to make, but as she studied the glass more closely she saw that the surface of the wine was vibrating slightly. Tiny ripples radiated out from the centre, like the quivering of a plucked string. Pliny picked up the glass and the movement ceased; he replaced it and the motion resumed.

“I noticed it during dinner,” Pliny admitted. “I’ve trained myself to be alert to things in Nature, which others might miss. The shaking isn’t constant...look now! The wine is still.”

“That’s remarkable, Pliny!” Pomponianus cooed, reaching for the wine. “I congratulate you. I’m afraid once I have a glass in my hand, I don’t tend to put it down until it’s empty.”

The senator was less impressed. He folded his arms and pushed himself back in the chair as if he had somehow made himself look a fool by watching a childish trick. 

“I don’t know what’s significant about that. So the table trembles? It could be anything. The wind-” 

“There’s no wind,” Kara pointed out. 

“Alright, maybe there’s heavy footsteps somewhere. Or perhaps Pomponianus was trying to touch our young aquarius here under the table.”

Laughter broke the tension. Only Kara and Pliny did not smile. The admiral continued.

“We know that this world we stand on, which seems to us so still, is in fact revolving eternally, at an indescribable velocity. And it may be that this mass hurtling through space produces a sound of such volume that it is beyond the capacity of our human ears to detect. The stars out there, for example, might be tinkling like wind chimes, if only we could hear them. Could it be that the patterns in this wineglass are the physical expression of that same heavenly harmony?”

_ ‘He loves to ramble,’ _ Kara thought, rolling her eyes at the idiocracy of it all.

“Then why does it stop and start?” The senator countered. 

“I have no answer. Perhaps at one moment, the earth glides silently, and at another it encounters resistance. There is a school which holds that winds are caused by the earth travelling in one direction and the stars in the other. Tell me, Kara, what do you think?”

“I’m an engineer, admiral,” Kara said tactfully, “not a philosopher.”

In her view, they were wasting precious time. She thought of mentioning the strange behaviour of the vapour on the hillside that morning but decided against it.  _ Tinkling stars! _ Her foot was tapping with impatience.

“All I can tell you is that the matrix of an aqueduct is built to withstand the most extreme forces. Where the Augusta runs underground, which is most of the way, she’s six feet high and three feet wide, and she rests on a base of concrete one and a half feet thick, with walls of the same dimensions. Whatever force breached that must have been pretty powerful.”

“More powerful than the force which shakes my wine?” 

The admiral looked at the senator. 

“Unless we are not dealing with a phenomenon of nature at all. In which case, what is it? A deliberate act of sabotage, perhaps, to strike at the fleet? But who would dare? We haven’t had a foreign enemy set foot in this part of Italy since Hannibal.”

“And sabotage would hardly explain the presence of sulphur,” Kara added. 

“Sulphur?” said Pomponianus suddenly. “That’s the stuff in thunderbolts, isn’t it? And who throws thunderbolts?” 

He looked around excitedly. 

“Jupiter! We should sacrifice a white bull to Jupiter, as a deity of the upper air, and have the holy men inspect the entrails. They’ll tell us what to do.”

Kara let out a burst of laughter. The aristocrat was a fool.

“What’s so funny about that?” demanded Pomponianus. “It’s not so funny as the idea that the world is flying through space, which, if I may say so, Pliny, rather begs the question of why we don’t all fall off!”

“It’s an excellent suggestion, my friend,” said Pliny soothingly. “And, as admiral, I also happen to be the chief priest of Misenum, and I assure you if I had a white bull to hand I would kill it on the spot. But for the time being, a more practical solution may be needed.” 

He sat back in his chair and wiped his napkin across his face, then unfolded and inspected it, as if it might contain some vital clue. 

“Very well, aquarius. I shall give you your ship.” He turned to the captain. “Antius, which is the fastest liburnian in the fleet?”

“That would be the  _ Green Arrow _ , admiral. Oliver Queen’s ship.”

“Get her ready to sail at first light.” 

“Yes, admiral.” 

“And I want notices posted on every fountain telling the citizens that rationing is now in force. Water will only be allowed to flow twice each day, for one hour exactly, at dawn and dusk.” 

At that, the men all visibly winced. 

“Aren’t you forgetting that tomorrow is a public holiday, admiral? It’s  _ Vulcanalia _ , if you recall?” Lockwood reminded him. 

“I’m perfectly aware it’s Vulcanalia!” 

And so it is, thought Kara. In the rush of leaving Rome and fretting about the aqueduct she’d completely lost track of the calendar. The 23rd of August, Vulcan’s day, when live fish were thrown on to bonfires, as a sacrifice, to appease the god of fire.

“But what about the public baths?” the senator joined in. 

“Closed until further notice.” 

“They won’t like that, admiral,” mumbled Lockwood. 

“Well, it can’t be helped. We’ve all grown far too soft, in any case!” He glanced briefly at Pomponianus. “The Empire wasn’t built by people who lazed around the baths all day. It will do some people good to have a taste of how life used to be.”

The admiral turned to his nephew.

“Gaius, draft a letter for me to sign to the magistrates of Pompeii, asking them to provide whatever men and materials Kara may be necessary for the repair of the aqueduct. You know the kind of thing?”

“Um?”

“You know,  _ ‘in the name of the Emperor Titus Caesar Vespasianus Augustus, and in accordance with the power vested in me by the Senate and People of Rome,’  _ blah, blah blah.”

“Yes uncle,” the younger Pliny nodded.

“Lockwood,” the admiral turned to the overseer next. “It’s clear that you know the terrain around Vesuvius better than anyone else. You should be the one to ride out and locate the fault, while the aquarius assembles the main expedition in Pompeii.” 

The overseer’s mouth flapped open in dismay. 

“What’s the matter? Do you disagree?” 

“No, admiral,” Lockwood hid his anxiety quickly, but Kara had noticed it. “I don’t mind looking for the break. But, would it not make more sense for one of us to remain at the reservoir to supervise the rationing?” 

Pliny cut him off impatiently. 

“Rationing will be the navy’s responsibility. It’s primarily a question of public order.”

For a moment Lockwood looked as if he might be on the point of arguing, but then he bowed his head, frowning. From the terrace came the sound of female voices and a trickle of laughter.

_ ‘Lockwood doesn’t want me to go to Pompeii,’ _ Kara realised, suddenly.  _ ‘This whole performance tonight... it’s been to keep me away from Pompeii.’  _

A woman’s elaborately coiffured head appeared at the doorway. She must have been about sixty. The pearls at her throat were the largest Kara had ever seen. Her eyes landed on Kara and studied the young aquarius curiously, before crooked her finger at the senator. 

“Darling! How much longer are you planning to keep us waiting?”

“Forgive us,” Pliny said the woman. “We’ve almost finished. Does anyone have anything else to add?”

He glanced at each of them in turn. 

“No? In that case, I for one propose we finish dinner.” 

He pushed back his chair and everyone stood. The size of his belly made it hard for him to rise. His nephew offered his arm, but the admiral waved him away. He had to rock forwards several times and the strain of finally pushing himself up on to his feet left him breathless. 

With one hand he clutched at the table, with the other he reached for his glass, then stopped, his outstretched fingers hovering in mid-air. The wine had resumed its trembling. The admiral blew out his cheeks. 

“I think perhaps I shall sacrifice that white bull after all, Pomponianus. And you-" he said to Kara, “-will give me back my water within two days.” 

The blonde gulped nervously. Pliny picked up the vibrating glass and took a sip. 

“Or, believe me, we shall all have need of Jupiter’s protection.”

  
  


\--

  
  


Two hours later, Kara found herself sleepless, naked and stretched out on her narrow wooden bed. She laid waiting for the dawn. The familiar, lullaby of the aqueduct had gone and in its place crowded all the tiny, irritating noises of the night.

She closed her eyes, only to open them again almost immediately. In the panic of the crisis, Kara had managed to forget the sight of the corpse, dragged from the pool of eels. But, lying there in the darkness, she found herself replaying the whole scene.

The concentrated silence at the water’s edge, the body hooked and dragged ashore, the screams of the slave woman, the anxious face and soft features of Lena Luthor.

Too exhausted to rest, Kara swung her bare feet on to the warm floor. Her unfinished letter to Eliza and Alex was next to a small oil lamp that flickered on her night-stand. 

There was no point finishing it now. Either she would repair the aqueduct and they’d hear from her on her return, or they’d hear  _ of _ her when she was shipped back to Rome to face a court of inquiry...a dishonour to the family name.

Kara picked up the lamp and took it to the shelf at the foot of the bed, settling it down among the little shrine of figures that represented the spirits of her ancestors. Kneeling, she reached across as plucked the effigy of her great-grandfather. 

Could he have been one of the original engineers on the Augusta? It wasn’t completely impossible to think. Kara felt her courage strengthening. People had built the Augusta, and people would fix her.  _ She _ would fix her.

She then picked up the effigy of her father and ran her thumb tenderly over the smooth head.

_ ‘Your father was brave; make sure you are too.’ _

Kara had only been a baby when Zor-El finished the Aqua Claudia. That didn’t stop him from retelling the story of the day of its dedication. 

At four months old, Kara had been passed over the shoulders of the engineers in the great crowd on the Esquiline Hill. Sometimes he had flashbacks and could vaguely remember the scene: the elderly Emperor Claudius, twitching and stuttering as he sacrificed to Neptune, and then the water appearing in the channel, as if by magic, at the exact moment that the Emperor raised his hands to the sky.

Of course, that’d had nothing to do with the intervention of the gods, despite the gasps of those present. That was because her father had known the laws of engineering and had opened the sluices at the head of the aqueduct exactly eighteen hours before the ceremony was due to reach its climax, and had ridden back into the city faster than the water could chase him.

Kara contemplated the piece of clay in her palm. 

_ ‘And you, father? Did you ever come to Misenum? Did you know Snapper? The aquarii of Rome were like a family, you used to say. Was Snapper one of those engineers on your day of triumph? Did he swing me in his arms with the rest?’ _

She stared at the figure for a while, then kissed it and put it carefully with the others.

First, the aquarius disappears and now the water. The more Kara considered it, the more convinced she was that these must be connected. But how?

She glanced around the roughly plastered walls. No clue here, that was for sure. No trace of the missing aquarius left behind in this plain room. And yet, according to Lockwood, Snapper had run the Augusta for twenty years.

Kara retrieved the lamp and went out into the corridor. Drawing back the curtain opposite, she shone the light into the cubicle where Snapper’s only possessions were stored. There were a couple of wooden chests, a pair of bronze candelabra, a cloak, sandals, and a pisspot. It wasn’t much to show for twenty years. Neither of the chests were locked.

Still holding the lamp, she lifted the lid of the nearest chest and began to rummage through it with her free hand. 

There were clothes, old clothes mostly, which stunk of stale sweat. Two tunics, loincloths, a toga, neatly folded. Kara closed the lid quietly and raised the other. Not much in this chest, either. 

A skin scraper for removing oil in the baths. A jokey figure of Priapus with a vastly extended penis. A clay beaker for throwing dice, with more penises dotted around its rim. The dice themselves. A few glass jars containing various herbs. A couple of plates. A small bronze goblet that was badly tarnished.

Curious, Kara picked up the goblet. Was it really bronze? Now that she’d examined it more closely, she wasn’t so sure. The blonde weighed it in her hand, turned it over, breathed on it and rubbed the bottom with her thumb. A smear of gold appeared and part of an engraved letter _ L _ . She rubbed again, gradually increasing the radius of gleaming metal until she could make out all the initials.

**A.J.l.L.**

The lowercase  _ l _ stood for  _ libertus _ and showed it to be the property of a freed slave. A slave who had been freed by an owner, and given a name beginning with  _ L _ . Someone who was rich enough, and vulgar enough, to drink his wine from a gold cup. 

Lena’s voice was suddenly as clear in Kara’s mind as if she had been standing beside her.

_ ‘My name is Lena Kieran Luthor, sister of Alexander Joseph Luthor, owner of the Villa Hortensia…’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for anyone who's not that into Roman history, Pliny's nephew - Gaius - is actually known worldwide as Pliny The Younger. It's from his letters that we actually have an accurate depiction of the eruption of Vesuvius.
> 
> The engraving on the bronze cup A.J.l.L. stands for Alexander Joseph libertus Luthor. Lex Luthor's full name in case you missed that! ;)
> 
> Just wanted to say a big thank you to everyone who's read and reviewed this story so far. I'm glad you're enjoying it!


	6. VI

The moonlight shone on the smooth black stones of the narrow street and silhouetted the lines of the flat roofs. It felt almost as hot as it had been in the late afternoon; the moon as bright as the sun. 

As Kara ran up the steps between the shuttered, silent houses, she could picture Lena darting before her. The movement of her hips beneath the plain white dress.

_ ‘A few hundred paces, no distance at all. All uphill!’ _

The blonde eventually reached the level ground and stood before the high wall of the great villa. A grey cat ran along it and disappeared over the other side. The glinting metal dolphins leapt and kissed above the chained gate. She could hear the sea in the distance, moving against the shore. 

Kara rattled the iron bars and pressed her face to the warm metal. The porter’s room was shuttered and barred. There was not a light to be seen.

She remembered Lex’s reaction when she turned up on the seashore,  _ ‘What’s happened to Snapper? But surely Snapper is still the aquarius?’ _

There’d been surprise in Lex’s voice and, now she came to think about it, possibly something more...alarm. 

“Lena!” Kara whispered, calling the other woman’s name softly. “Lena Luthor!”

No response. 

Then a hoarse whisper in the darkness, so low that Kara almost missed it. 

_ “Gone.” _

A woman’s voice that came from somewhere to her left. 

Kara stepped back from the gate and peered into the shadows. She could make out nothing except a small mound of rags piled in a drift against the wall. The blonde moved closer and saw that the shreds of cloth were moving slightly.

A skinny tanned foot protruded, like a bone. It was the lover of the dead slave...Andrea. 

Kara went down on one knee and cautiously touched the rough fabric of her dress. Andrea shivered, then groaned and muttered something. Kara withdrew her hand and saw her fingers were sticky with blood. 

“Can you stand?” she asked. 

_ “Gone,” _ Andrea said weakly, repeating herself.

Kara lifted the woman carefully until she was sitting, propped against the wall. Her swollen head dropped forward and the engineer saw that her matted hair had left a damp mark on the stone. She’d been whipped and badly beaten, and thrown out of the house to die.

Kara felt anger begin to rise in her body. How could Lex do this to his slaves? Would he not treat them with a bit more kindness, especially since he had once been like them. No matter what Kara thought, it didn’t matter. It was a fact of life that there was no crueller master than an ex-slave.

Kara pressed her fingers lightly to Andrea’s neck to make sure she was still alive. Then the blonde threaded one arm under the crook of the slave’s knees and with the other grasped her around her shoulders. She didn’t even flinch at the weight when she rose to her feet. Andrea was mere rags and bones. 

Somewhere, in the streets close to the harbour, the nightwatchman was calling out for midnight. The engineer straightened her back and set off down the hill.

\--

The next morning, Kara made her way down to the naval garrison where the warships were docked. 

She walked along the quay to where the others were waiting – Mike, William, Winn, and Brainy. These men were becoming as familiar to her as family. There was no sign yet of Lockwood.

“Nine brothels!” Mike was saying. “Believe me, if you want to get laid, Pompeii’s the place. Even William can give his hand a rest for a change...hey, aquarius!” 

The man shouted over to her as Kara drew closer. 

“Tell William he can get himself laid!”

The dockside stank of shit and gutted fish. The blonde could see a rotting melon and the bloated, whitened carcass of a rat lapping at his feet between the pillars of the wharf. She had a sudden yearning for one of those cold, northern seas she'd heard about: the Atlantic, perhaps? Anywhere that wasn’t this filthy Roman lake.

“As long as we fix the Augusta, William can screw every girl in Italy for all I care,” Kara muttered.

“There you go, William!” Mike laughed, slapping his back. “Your dick will soon be as long as your nose-”

As Mike continued to crudely boast about Pompeii’s sexual sights, Kara drowned his voice out. The ship the admiral had promised was moored before them, the  _ Green Arrow _ . A liburnian, smaller than the big triremes. Built for speed. Her high sternpost reared out behind her, then curled across her low deck like the sting of a scorpion preparing to strike. She was currently deserted.

“...Cuculla and Zmyrina. And then there’s this red-haired Egyptian, Martha. And a Greek girl...”

“What use is a ship without a crew?” Kara asked out loud, speaking over Mike. She was fretting already as they could not afford to waste an hour. “Brainy, run to the barracks and find out what’s happening.”

“...Aegle and Maria…”

The young slave got to his feet. 

“No need,” said Winn, and gestured with his head towards the entrance to the port. “Here they come.”

“Your hearing must be better than mine,” Kara began, but then she heard them too. 

A hundred pairs of feet, doubling along the road from the military school. As the marchers crossed the wooden bridge of the causeway, the sharp rhythm became a continuous thunder of leather on wood, then a couple of torches appeared and the unit swung into the street leading to the harbour front. They came on, five abreast, three officers wearing body armour and crested helmets in the lead. At the first shout of command, the column halted; at a second, it broke and the sailors moved towards the ship. None spoke.

Kara moved back to let them pass. In their sleeveless tunics, the misshapen shoulders and hugely muscled arms of the oarsmen appeared grotesquely out of proportion to their lower bodies. 

“Look at them!” came the drawled voice of a tall officer, as he walked up and stood beside the blonde. “The cream of the Navy!”

He then turned to Kara and raised his fist in salute. Okay, that she did not expect. A military officer, saluting a woman? It was almost unheard of! 

The office introduced himself, “Oliver Queen, captain of the Green Arrow.” 

The young aquarius smiled, she was finally getting some respect!

“Kara Zor-El, engineer. Let’s go.”

\--

It didn’t take long to load the ship. If Pompeii was swarming with builders for hire, Kara would use the admiral’s letter to get the help she needed. Tools, though, were a different matter. An engineer should always use her own tools.

The crew and workmen moved swiftly to load up the  _ Green Arrow _ , without exchanging a word, and by the time they had finished it was light and the ship was ready to sail. Kara walked up the gangplank and jumped down to the deck. 

A line of marines with boat hooks was waiting to push the boat away from the quay. From his platform beneath the sternpost, next to the helmsman, Oliver shouted down to her.

“Are you ready, engineer?” 

Kara called back that she was. The sooner they left, the better.

“But Lockwood isn’t here,” William objected. 

_ ‘To hell with Lockwood,’ _ Kara thought. 

It was almost a relief that the overseer wasn’t here. She would manage the job alone.

The mooring ropes were cast off. The boat hooks dropped like lances and connected with the dock. Beneath her feet, Kara felt the deck shake as the oars were unshipped and the  _ Green Arrow _ began to move. 

The blonde looked back towards the shore. A crowd had gathered around the public fountain, waiting for the water to appear. Kara wondered if she should have stayed at the reservoir long enough to supervise the opening of the sluices. But she had left six watermen behind to run the Piscina and the building was surrounded by Pliny’s marines.

“There he is!” shouted William. “Look! It’s Lockwood!” 

He started waving his arms above his head. 

“Lockwood! Over here!” William turned and gave Kara an accusing look. “You see! You should’ve waited!”

The overseer had been strolling past the fountain, a bag across his shoulder, seemingly deep in thought. He looked up, saw them, and started to run. Kara was surprised to see that he moved pretty fast for a man in his forties. 

The gap between the ship and the quay was widening quickly, and it seemed almost impossible for Lockwood to make it. But, when he reached the edge he threw his bag and then leapt after it, and a couple of the marines stretched out and caught his arms and hauled the overseer aboard.

Lockwood landed upright, close to the stern of the ship, glared at Kara and jerked his middle finger at her. The blonde rolled her eyes and turned away.

As the Green Arrow moved out of the harbour, a drum sounded below deck and the blades of the oars dipped. The drum sounded again and the blades splashed the surface, two men pulling on each oar shaft. The ship glided forwards and began to pick up speed as the tempo of the drums quickened.

Oliver Queen barked out an order, and the helmsman swung hard on the huge oar that served as a rudder. For the first time since she’d arrived in Campania, Kara felt a slight breeze on her face.

“You have an audience, aquarius!” Oliver shouted, and gestured towards the hill above the port.

Kara recognised the long white terrace of the Pliny’s villa, and leaning against the balustrade was the admiral himself. She wondered what was going through the old man’s mind. Hesitantly, she raised her arm. A moment later, Pliny responded.

In the distance, behind Vesuvius, the sun was starting to appear.

\--

The  _ Green Arrow _ passed between the great concrete walls that protected the entrance to the harbour and out into the expanse of the bay. The yellow light of early morning glittered on the water.

From a distance, Kara could see the fishery of the Villa Hortensia. She got to her feet for a better view, bracing herself against the motion of the boat. She could see the villa’s terraces, the garden paths and the slope where Lex had sat on his chair to watch the execution. The whole place was still destered.

It was exactly as Andrea had said: they had gone.

The woman had still not recovered her senses when Kara left the reservoir before dawn. She’d laid the injured slave on a straw mattress in a room next to the kitchen, and had told one of the household slaves to summon a doctor. 

Hopefully, the doctor would see that Andrea was cared for. If she died, well, that might be a merciful end. If she recovered, then as far as she was concerned, Andrea could stay. Kara could do with some help, after all, to look after her food and clothes. It’d be light work, nothing too strenuous.

The villa looked dark and shuttered, as though for a funeral; the screams of the gulls were like the cries of mourners.

“I hear he paid ten million for it,” Mike said, snapping Kara out of her thoughts.

The blonde acknowledged the remark with a grunt, without taking her eyes off the house.

“Well, he’s not there now.”

“Lex Luthor? Of course he’s not,” Mike scoffed. “He never is, he has houses _ everywhere _ . You’ll usually find him in Pompeii though.” 

“Pompeii?” Kara asked curiously, as she tore her gaze from the shoreline.

The blonde looked around the ship. Mike was sitting cross-legged, his back propped against the tools, eating a fig. Kara chuckled to herself as she watched him stuff the last of the fruit into his mouth and sucked his fingers. Mike was a man after her own heart as he always seemed to be eating. His wife sent him to work every day with enough food to feed half a dozen.

“That’s where he comes from. Pompeii is where he made his money.”

“And yet he was born a slave,” Kara pointed out.

“That’s just how it goes these days,” Mike said bitterly. “Your average ex-slave dines off a silver plate, while your honest, free-born citizen works all day for scraps.”

The other men were sitting towards the stern of the ship, gathered around Lockwood. The overseer had his head hunched forwards and was talking quietly. He looked like he was telling some story that required a lot of wild hand gestures and heavy shaking of his head. Kara guessed that he was describing the previous night’s meeting with Pliny.

Mike uncorked his waterskin and took a swig, before wiping the top and offering it to Kara. The blonde took it and squatted down beside him. The water had a slightly bitter taste, likely from the sulphur. She swallowed a little, more to be friendly than because she was thirsty, and then wiped and handed it back.

“You’re right Mike,” Kara said carefully. “How old is Lex anyway? I reckon he’s not even fifty. Yet he’s gone from slave to master of the Villa Hortensia in the time it would take me or you to scrape enough to buy some run-down apartment. How could anyone do that honestly?”

“An honest millionaire? Yeah, good luck finding one of those aquarius!” Mike chuckled, before looking over his shoulder and lowering his voice. “The way I hear it, he really started making his money just after the earthquake.”

“The earthquake from seventeen years ago?” Kara whispered back.

Mike nodded, before continuing. 

“Lex and his mother were given their freedom in their old master Edge’s will. He was a loyal servant, Lex, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his master. You see, the old man was a good friend of Lex’s father, senator Lionel Luthor.”

“Wait, senator Luthor had a bastard son and kept him in slavery?” Kara asked, flabbergasted. “I just thought the taking of the Luthor family name was just another attempt by Lex to appear important?”

Mike shook his head.

“Senator Luthor had a soft spot for old man Edge’s slave, Lillian. As a result, Lex was born, but that caused all sorts of problems for the senator. You see, he was newly married, so he forced Edge to keep the boy in slavery along with his mother. As he grew up, Lex used this to his advantage to manipulate him. Plus, he looked after the old man’s wife for him too, if you know what I mean.”

Mike winked at her. Kara understood what the man was referencing, but she wasn’t sure if he was trying to flirt with her too. Ignoring him, Kara asked another question that hadn’t left her mind.

“So what about his sister?”

“Oh, you mean Lena,” Mike teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “The things I would do to her-”

_ “Mike,”  _ she chastised, rolling her eyes at his antics.

“I know she's noble, I know she’s off-limits,” he groaned. “I’m not entirely sure about her. I can only guess she’s another child of Senator Luthor’s. Since he passed away, I wouldn’t be surprised if Lex swooped in to take charge of his father’s property, including Lena.”

“Hmm,” Kara pondered. “She really is a mystery after all.”

“You too, huh?” Mike grinned.

“What?” Kara asked.

“I mean, I didn’t know if you were into women that way, but I just assumed seeing how you love doing men’s jobs.”

“I do not like Lena Luthor that way,” Kara growled at him, lying through her teeth. 

“That’s a shame, I would have loved to watch you two,” he teased, earning him a punch on the shoulder.

“You were talking about Lex and his money?” Kara said, switching the subject

“Well, Lex and his mother got their freedom, and a bit of money from somewhere, and Jupiter decided to shake things up a bit. This was back in Emperor Nero’s time, it was a very bad quake. I was thirteen and living in Nola when it happened, I thought my days were up.”

Mike paused to kiss his lucky family amulet, a penis and balls made of bronze that was hung from a leather strap around his neck.

“But you know what they say, one man’s loss is another’s gain. Pompeii got the worst of the earthquake, there was destruction everywhere. But while everyone was getting out, talking about the town being finished, Lex was going round and buying up the ruins. He got a hold of some of those big villas for next to nothing; he fixed them up, divided them into three or four and then sold them off for a fortune.”

“There’s nothing illegal about that, though,” Kara said.

“Maybe not, but did he really own them when he sold them? That’s the thing,” Mike tapped the side of his nose. “Owners dead or missing. Legal heirs on the other side of the Empire. Don’t forget, half of the town was rubble. The Emperor sent a commissioner down from Rome to sort out who owned what.”

“Lemme guess, Lex bribed him? Kara guessed.

“Let’s just say, the commissioner left a richer man than he arrived. Or so they say.”

“And what about Snapper? He was the aquarius at the time of the earthquake, he must have known Lex.”

Kara could see at once that she had made a mistake asking Mike that. The eager light of gossip was immediately extinguished in his eyes.

“I don’t know anything about that,” he mumbled before he began rummaging through his bag of food. “He was a good man, Snapper. He was good to work for.”

_ Was _ , Kara thought.  _ Was _ a good man.  _ Was _ good to work for. The blonde tried to make a joke of it.

“You mean he didn’t keep dragging you out of bed in the middle of the night?”

“No,” Mike replied. “I meant that he was straight and would never try to trick an honest man into saying more than he ought.”

“Hey Mike!” Lockwood shouted. “What are you going on about over there? If you keep gossiping with our aquarius and you’ll turn into a woman too! Come and have a drink!”

Mike jumped up to his feet at once and swayed over to the deck to join the others, leaving Kara alone with her thoughts once more. 

_ Very strange. _

She wasn’t left by herself for long, as Oliver Queen jumped down from the stern and made his way towards her, near the centre of the deck where the mast and sails were stowed.

“We’ll have no need of those, I fear,” the commander mused.

He was a big man, hands on his hips as he scanned the sky. The fresh sharp sun glinted on his breastplate; it was already hot. 

“Right aquarius, let’s see what my men can do!”

He swung his feet on to the ladder and descended down the hatch to the lower deck. A moment later, the tempo of the drum increased and Kara felt the ship lurch slightly. The oars flashed. The silent Villa Hortensia dwindled further in the distance behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter down! I know you're all itching for Kara and Lena to meet again, but don't worry! They will reunite soon, I promise.
> 
> In the original book, Lex's character is actually the father of Lena's character, so I've had to switch up a bit of the original backstory to suit them being siblings. As I said, it's not totally historically accurate, so take things with a pinch of salt. 
> 
> I hope you're all enjoying the story nonetheless! :)


	7. VII

The  _ Green Arrow _ pushed on steadily as the heat of the morning settled over the bay. 

For two hours the oarsmen kept up the same remorseless pace. The further east they rowed, the more Vesuvuis dominated the bay. Its slopes were a mosaic of cultivated fields and villas, but from her halfway point rose a dark green, virgin forest. A few wisps of cloud hung motionless around it’s towering peak.

Oliver told Kara that the hunting up there was excellent. You could find boar, deer and hares. He’d been out many times with his dogs and net, but also with his bow. He did warn her that you had to look out for the wolves and that in the winter, the top was covered in snow.

Squatting next to the blonde, he took off his helmet and wiped his forehead.

“Hard to imagine,” he said, “snow in this heat.”

“Is it easy to climb?” Kara asked him.

“Not too hard, it’s easier than it looks. The top’s fairly flat when you get up there. Spartacus made it the camp for his rebel army - some natural fortress that must’ve been. No wonder the scum were able to hold off the legions for so long. When the skies are clear, you can see for miles.”

They’d passed the city of Neapolis and were now parallel with a smaller town which Oliver said was Herculaneum. It was hard to tell, all the towns were so close together that they blended into one. Herculaneum looked stately and pleasant and was situated at the foot of the mountain.

There were parasols on the beaches, people casting fishing lines from the jetties. Music, and the shouts of children playing ball, wafted across the still water. 

“Now that’s the greatest villa on the bay,” Oliver said, as he nodded towards an immense property that was sprawled along the shoreline. “That’s the Villa Calpurnia. I had the honour to take the new Emperor there last month, on a visit to the formal consul, Pedius Cascus.”

“Cascus?” Kara pictured the lizard-like senator from the previous evening, dressed in his purple striped toga. “I had no idea he was so rich.”

“Inherited through his wife, Rectina. The admiral comes here often, to use the library. Do you see that group of people, reading in the shade beside the pool? They’re philosophers.”

Oliver found this very funny.

“Some men breed birds as a pastime, others have dogs. The senator keeps philosophers!”

“And what species are these philosophers?” Kara questioned, keeping up the joke.

“Followers of  _ Epicurus _ . According to the senator, they hold that man is mortal, the gods are indifferent to our fate, and therefore the only thing to do in life is enjoy yourself.”

“I could have told him that!” 

Oliver laughed again and then put on his helmet and tightened the chin-strap.

“Not long to Pompeii now, Kara. Another half-hour should do it.”

He walked back towards the stern. Kara shielded her eyes and contemplated the villa. 

She’d never had much use for philosophy. Why does one human being inherit such a palace, and another be torn apart by eels, and a third breaking his beak in the darkness rowing a ship? You could go mad trying to reason why the world was so arranged. 

Why had James been ripped from her so early in their lives? Show her the philosophers who could answer that and she would start to see the point of them.

James had always wanted to come on holiday to the Bay of Neapolis, and she’d always put him off, saying she was too busy. Kara had to work harder than all the other aquarius’ to prove her worth as a woman in a man’s world. She didn’t have time to enjoy the luxuries of holidays, at least not yet, she’d told him. Once she’d gotten the respect of her male peers, then they could consider spending time away together. But now it was too late. James was dead.

Grief at what she’d lost and regret at what she’d failed to do - her twin assailants - caught her unawares again, and hollowed her, as they always did. Kara felt a physical emptiness in the pit of her stomach as she continued to watch the row of houses across the bay pass her by. She let the warmth soak her body and face for a while, and despite herself, she must have floated off to sleep. When Kara next opened her eyes, the scenery had changed once again. 

The blonde shook her head to clear her mind and reached for the leather bag in which she carried what she needed. Pliny’s letter to the aediles of Pompeii, a small bag of gold coins and the map of the Augusta.

Kara unrolled the aqueduct plan and rested it against her knees as she scanned it. A wave of anxiety began to wash over her as she realised that the proportions of the sketch were not accurate. The plans failed to convey the immensity of Vesuvius, which they’d still not passed in the boat, and which must surely be seven or eight miles across.

What had seemed like a mere thumb’s-width on the map was, in reality, half a morning’s dusty trek in the boiling heat of the sun. Kara scolded herself for her naivety. She’d been boasting to the admiral, in the comfort of a library, of what could be done without first checking the actual lie of the land.

A classic rookie error.

The blonde pushed herself to her feet and made her way over to the men, who were crouched in a circle playing dice. Lockwood had his hand cupped over the beaker and was shaking it hard. He didn’t even glance up as Kara’s shadow fell across him.

“Come on Fortuna, you old whore!” he muttered as he rolled the dice.

He threw all aces, a dog, and groaned. William gave a cry of joy and scooped up the pile of copper coins.

“My luck was good,” Lockwood said, “until she appeared.”

He jabbed his finger at Kara.

“She’s worse than a raven, boys. Mark my words, she’ll lead us all to our deaths.”

“Not like Snapper, I bet he always won,” Kara replied, squatting beside them. She picked up the dice. “Whose are these?”

“Mine,” Mike piped up.

“Okay, hear me out, let’s play a different game. When we get to Pompeii, Lockwood is going out first to the far side of Vesuvius to find the break on the Augusta. Someone has to go with him, so why don’t you guys throw for the privilege?”

“Whoever wins goes with Lockwood!” Mike exclaimed.

“No,” Kara said. “Whoever  _ loses _ .”

Everyone laughed, except Lockwood.

“Whoever loses!” William repeated, wiping the tears from his eyes. “That’s a good one!”

They took it in turns to roll the dice, each man clasping his hands around the cup as he shook it, each whispering their own prayer for luck.

Mike went last and threw a dog. He looked defeated.

“You lose!” William chanted. “Mike the loser!”

“Alright,” Kara smirked, “the dice settle it. Lockwood and Mike will locate the fault.”

“And what about the others?” Mike grumbled.

“William and Winn will ride to Abellinum and close the sluices.”

“I don’t see why it takes two of them to go? And what’s Querl going to do?”

“Brainy stays with me in Pompeii and organises the tools and transport.”

“Oh, that’s fair!” Mike said bitterly. “The free man sweats his guts out on the mountain, while the slave gets to screw the whores in Pompeii!”

He snatched up the dice and threw them into the sea. “That’s what I think of my luck!”

From the pilot at the front of the ship came a warning shout:

_ ‘Pompeii ahead!’ _

Six heads all turned to face the town.

  
  


\--

  
  


Pompeii came into view slowly from behind a headland, and the town was not at all what Kara had expected. It wasn’t a sprawling resort like Neapolis, strung out along the coastline of the bay. Instead, Pompeii was a fortress-like city, built to withstand a siege, set back a quarter of a mile from the sea, on higher ground, its port spread out beneath it.

Activity was everywhere. People walking along the top of the wall and working in the gardens that looked out to sea. People swarming along the road in front of the town - on foot, on horseback, in chariots and on the back of wagons - throwing up dust and clogging the steep paths that led up from the port to the two big city gates.

As the  _ Green Arrow _ turned into the narrow entrance of the harbour, the din of the crowd grew louder. They were a holiday crowd, by the look of it, coming into town from the countryside to celebrate the festival of Vulcan. Kara scanned the dockside for fountains but couldn’t see any.

The men were all silent, standing in line, each within their own thoughts. Kara turned to Lockwood.

“Where does the water come into town?”

“On the other side of the city,” the overseer replied, staring intently at the town. “Beside the Vesuvius Gate.  _ If _ -” he gave heavy emphasis to the word “- it’s still flowing.”

That would be a joke, Kara thought, if it turned out the water was not running after all and she’d brought them all this way merely on the word of some old holy fool.

“Who works there?”

“Just some town slave. You won’t find her much help,” Lockwood mumbled.

“Why not?”

Lockwood grinned and shook his head. He would not say. A private joke.

“Alright. Then the Vesuvius Gate is where we’ll start from,” Kara announced as she clapped her hands. “Come on guys, you’ve seen a town before. The cruise is over.”

They were inside the harbour now. Warehouse cranes crowded the water’s edge. Oliver, barking orders, strode down the length of the ship as the drumbeats slowed and ceased. The oars were shipped and the helmsman turned the rudder slightly as they glided along the wharf at walking-pace. Two groups of sailors carrying mooring cables jumped ashore and wound them quickly around the stone posts. Finally, with a jerk, the _Green Arrow_ came to rest.

As Kara was regaining her balance from the jerking motion of the ship, she saw it. 

A big stone plinth with the head of Neptune gushing water from his mouth into a bowl that was shaped like an oyster shell. The bowl was  _ overflowing _ too, cascading down to rinse the cobbles and wash into the sea. Nobody was queuing to drink and nobody was paying it any attention. 

But why should they? It was just an ordinary miracle.

Vaulting herself over the low side of the warship, Kara leapt towards the fountain. She put her hands into the clear water, cupped them and raised them to her lips. The water tasted sweet and pure, and she nearly laughed out loud with pleasure and relief. 

  
  


\--

You could buy pretty much anything in the harbour of Pompeii. Indian parrots, Nubian slaves, nitrum salt from Cairo, Chinese cinnamon, monkeys from the jungles of Africa, slave-girls famed for their sexual tricks... _ anything. _

Horses were as easy to come by as flies. Half a dozen dealers hung around the outside of the customs shed. The nearest was sat on a stool beneath a crudely drawn sign of the winged Pegasis, bearing the slogan:  **‘Baculus - Horses Swift Enough for the Gods.’**

“I need five,” Kara told the dealer. “And none of your clapped-out nags. I want good, strong beasts that are capable of working all day. And I need them now.”

“That’s no problem, lady!” came his reply. 

Baculus was a sleazy-looking, small, bald man, with the brick-red face and glossy eyes of a heavy drinker.

“Nothing’s a problem in Pompeii, provided you’ve got the money. Mind you, I’ll require a deposit. One of my horses was stolen the other day.”

“I also want oxen. Two teams and two wagons,” Kara added.

“Er, on a public holiday?” Baculus clicked his tongue. “That’ll take longer.”

“How long?” Kara asked impatiently.

“Let me think,” Baculus rambled as he squinted at the sun. “Two hours, maybe three?”

“Ok, agreed.”

They haggled back and forth with the price, the dealer demanding an outrageous sum which Kara immediately divided by ten. Even so, when they eventually shook hands, she was sure she had been swindled and that irritated her. But she didn’t have the time to seek out a better bargain.

Kara told Baculus to bring round four of the horses immediately to the Vesuvius Gate and then pushed her way back through the traders towards the  _ Green Arrow _ .

By now, the crew had been allowed up on deck. Most had peeled off their sodden tunics and the stench of sweat was strong enough to compete with the stink of the nearby fish-sauce factory. William and Winn were making their way between the oarsmen, carrying the tools and throwing them over the side to Mike and Brainy. 

Lockwood stood with his back to the boat, peering towards the town, occasionally rising on his toes to see over the heads of the crowd. He noticed Kara and stopped.

“So the water’s running,” he said, folding his arms.

There was something almost heroic about his stubbornness, his unwillingness to concede that he's been wrong. Kara knew that once all this was over, she’d have to get rid of him.

“Yeah, it is,” Kara replied, as she waved over to the others to stop what they were doing and gather round.

They agreed that they would leave Brainy to finish the unloading and to guard the tools on the dockside until Kara would send word on where to meet up later. The remaining five then set off towards the nearest town gate, Lockwood trailing behind. Whenever Kara looked back, it seemed that he was searching for someone, his head craning from side to side.

The blonde led them from the harbour towards the city wall, and then into the town itself. After being almost crushed by the weight of bodies surging into Pompeii, they made their way into the open space and swarming activity of the forum.

Kara paused and wiped her forehead. Already there was something about the place she didn’t like. It was a hustler’s town, she thought, full of people on the make. Pompeii would welcome a visitor for exactly as long as it took to fleece them. 

She beckoned for Lockwood to ask him where she’d find the aediles, and the overseer pointed towards a row of three small offices lining the southern edge of the square, all closed for the holiday.

A long notice board was covered in proclamations, evidence of a thriving bureaucracy. Kara cursed to herself. 

Nothing was ever easy!

“You know the way to the Vesuvius Gate,” she shouted to Lockwood. “You lead.”

On their journey to the gate, Kara counts seven fountains, all overflowing. The Augusta’s loss was clearly Pompeii’s gain. So while the other towns around the bay were baking dry in the heat, the children of Pompeii paddled in the streets.

By the time they reached the northern gate, Baculus was already waiting for them with their horses. He’d hitched them to a post beside a small building that backed on to the city wall. 

The castellum aquae.

The engineer took it in at a glance. It looked to be the highest point in the town and that made sense: invariably an aqueduct entered beneath a city’s walls where the elevation was greatest. Gazing back down the hill she could see the water towers which regulated the pressure of the flow.

Kara sent Mike inside the castellum to fetch out the water-slave, while she turned her attention to the horses. They didn’t seem too bad. You wouldn’t want to ride them in a race at the Circus Maximus, but they would do the job.

The blonde counted out a small pile of gold coins and gave them to Baculus, who tested each one with his teeth. As for the oxen, well, it turned out they’d have to wait for them.

The beasts, Baculus promised, would be ready later on in the afternoon. But he reassured Kara that he would attend to it immediately. He wished them all the blessings of Mercury on their journey, and took his leave...but only as far as the bar across the street.

Kara assigned the horses on the basis of their strength. The best she gave to William and Winn, on the grounds that they would have the most riding to do, and she was still explaining her reasons to an aggravated Lockwood when Mike reappeared.

It turned out that the castellum aquae was deserted.

_ “What?” _ Kara wheeled round. “There’s nobody there at all?”

“It’s Vulcanalia, remember?” Mike said as he shrugged.

“I told you she’d be no help,” Lockwood mumbled.

“Stupid public holidays!” Kara cried out, both exasperated and frustrated. She felt like she could’ve punched something. “Well, somewhere in this town, there had better be people willing to work.”

She regarded her puny expedition force uneasily and thought again how unwise she’d been in the admiral’s library, mistaking what was theoretically possible with what actually could be achieved. 

“Okay,” Kara said, calming herself down. “You all know what you have to do? William and Winn, have either of you ever been to Abellinum before?”

“I have,” William replied.

“What’s the setup?”

“The springs rise beneath the temple dedicated to the water-goddesses and flow into a basin within the monument. The aquarius in charge is a man called Probus, who also serves as priest.”

“An aquarius as a priest?!” Kara laughed bitterly and shook her head. ‘Well, you can tell this heavenly engineer, whoever he is, that the goddesses require him to close the main sluice and divert all his water to Beneventum. Make sure it’s done the moment you arrive.”

“Okay.”

“Then you’ll remain behind in Abellinum, William, and see it stays closed for twelve hours. As near exact as you can make it. Then you open it again. Have you got that?”

William nodded.

“And if, by some chance, we can’t make the repairs in twelve hours,” Lockwood said sarcastically, “what then?”

“I’ve thought of that,” Kara retorted. “As soon as the water is closed off, Winn leaves William at the basin and follows the course of the aqueduct back down the mountains until he reaches the rest of us north-east of Vesuvius. By then, it should be clear how much work needs to be done. If we can’t fix the problem in twelve hours, he can ride back to William to keep the gate closed until we’re finished.”

“It’s a lot of riding but I’m up for it,” Winn replied.

“Good.” Kara beamed. "That's more like it!"

“Twelve hours!” Lockwood moaned, shaking his head. “That’s going to mean working through the night.”

“Oh, what’s the matter? Scared of the dark?”

Once again, Kara managed to coax a laugh from the others. She paused, before continuing to inform them of her plan.

“When you locate the problem, Lockwood, make an assessment of how much material we’ll need for the repair job, and how much labour. You stay there and send Mike back with a report. I’ll make sure I get enough torches along with everything else we need from the magistrates. Once I’ve loaded up the wagons, I’ll wait here to hear from you.”

“And what if I don’t find the problem?”

It suddenly occurred to Kara that the overseer, in his bitterness, might even try to sabotage the entire mission.

“Then we’ll set out anyway and get to you before dark.” She smiled. “So don’t try to screw me around.”

“I’m sure there are plenty who’d like to  _ screw _ you, blondie, but I’m not one of them,” Lockwood sneered, leering back at her. “You’re a long way from home Kara Zor-El. Take my advice, in this town you better watch your back. If you know what I mean.”

He thrust out his groin back and forth in the same obscene gesture he had made out on the hillside the previous day when Kara had been prospecting for the spring.

Ignoring Lockwood’s gesture and obscene threats, Kara made sure they were all ready to leave. As the men mounted their horses, the engineer felt like she should say something inspiring, a speech like Caesar’s maybe. But, she couldn't come up with anything that wouldn’t make them jeer at her.

“When this is done, I’ll buy wine for everyone from the finest place in Pompeii!” she promised, somewhat lamely.

“And a woman!” Mike said, pointing at her. “Don’t forget the women, aquarius!”

“You can pay for them yourself,” Kara bit back.

“If he can find a whore who’ll have him!” William teased.

“Screw you, William. See you later, cocksuckers!”

And before Kara could think of anything else to say, they were kicking their heels into the sides of their horses and moving away through the crowds thronging into the city. She watched their progress as they disappeared into the distance. The blonde stood alone for a few moments to collect her thoughts. She barely knew the men, yet so many of her hopes, so much of her future had just gone with them. 

She began retracing her steps towards the city gate.

It was only when Kara joined a line of pedestrians queuing at the gate that she noticed the slight hump in the ground where the tunnel of the aqueduct passed beneath the city wall. She stopped and turned, following the line of it towards the nearest manhole, and saw to her surprise that its course pointed directly at the summit of Vesuvius. 

It was impossible that the spur ran all the way on to the mountain itself. She guessed it must swerve off to the east at the edge of the lower slopes and travel inland to join up with the Augusta’s mainline.

Kara went back through the gate and into the glare of the small square. She was suddenly very aware that she was alone in a strange town as she walked back towards the entrance of the castellum aquae. 

“Is anyone there?” she called out as she stuck her head into the entrance.

No answer.

She went inside and was immediately hit with the rushing sound of the aqueduct and the smell of fresh water on the warm stone. It was pretty dark, but the blonde didn’t need light to know how the castellum was arranged. She’d seen dozens of them over her years of learning. They were all identical, all laid out according to the principles of Vitruvius.

The tunnel of the Pompeii spur was smaller than the Augusta’s main matrix but still big enough for a person to squeeze along it to make repairs. The water jetted from its mouth through a bronze mesh screen into a shallow concrete reservoir divided by wooden gates. The force of the flow was very unusual.

It had swept a mass of debris along the tunnel and trapped it against the metal screen. Kara could make out leaves, twigs and even a few small rocks. It needed a good cleaning out. No wonder Lockwood had said the water-slave was useless.

Annoyed at the lack of maintenance, Kara lowered herself into the pool and unscrewed the metal grille to get rid of the waste. 

“Is somebody there?”

The voice startled her. A young girl stood in the doorway.

“Of course there’s somebody here, what does it look like I'm doing?” she scoffed.

“What _are_ you doing?” the girl asked.

‘Are you’re the water-slave? I’m doing your job for you, that’s what,” Kara huffed, as she swung the grille back into place and refastened it. 

She waded over to the side of the reservoir and hauled herself out. Why couldn’t people do their jobs properly?

“I’m Kara Zor-El, the new aquarius of Augusta. What’s your name? It’s not _lazy_ , is it?”

“Ruby, aquarius.”

The girl’s eyes were open in wide alarm, her pupils darting from side to side in fear. 

“I’m sorry!” she dropped to her knees. “The public holiday, aquarius...I s-slept late...I...”

“Okay, okay. Nevermind that.”

She looked about sixteen or so, and as thin as a stray dog. Kara immediately regretted her harsh tone.

“Come on, get up off the floor,” she instructed gently. “I need you to take me to the magistrates.”

The engineer held out her hand but the slave ignored it, her eyes still flickering wildly back and forth. Kara waved her hand in front of Ruby’s face.

“You’re blind?” she gasped.

‘Yes, aquarius.”

A blind guide...no wonder Lockwood had smiled when Kara had asked him. A blind guide in an unfriendly city!

“How do you perform your duties if you can’t see?” she asked the girl.

“I can hear better than anyone. I can tell by the sound of the water how well it flows and if it's obstructed. I can smell it, I can taste it for impurities.” 

Despite her nervousness, Ruby spoke with a sense of pride. She lifted her head, sniffing the air.

“This morning there’s no need for me to adjust the gates, I’ve never heard the flow so strong.”

“That’s true,” Kara nodded: she’d underestimated the young girl. “The mainline is blocked somewhere between here and Nola. That’s why I’ve come to get help to repair it. Are you the property of the town?”

Ruby nodded, and Kara felt a wave of sadness wash over her. This poor girl was all alone, serving the greater good of the Empire, who’d been so quick to throw her into slavery.

“Who are the magistrates?” Kara asked.

“Damian Darhk and Malcolm Merlyn,” Ruby said promptly. “The aediles are Morgan Edge and Maxwell Lord.”

“Which is in charge of the water supply?”

“Morgan Edge,” Ruby answered.

_ ‘Edge,’  _ Kara thought. He must be the son of the man who gave Lex Luthor his freedom. 

“Where will I find him?”

“You won’t, it’s a holiday...”

“Where's his house then?”

“Straight down the hill, aquarius, towards the Stabian Gate. On the left, just past the big crossroads,” Ruby scrambled to her feet eagerly. “I can show you if you’d like?”

“Why? Is it not easy to find?” Kara asked, puzzled. “Your directions were pretty good.”

“No, no,” Ruby was already halfway out of the castellum door, anxious to prove herself. “I’ll take you there, you’ll see!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally made it to Pompeii, woohoo!
> 
> What do you think of Lockwood, is he up to something? And what about Mike and the others?
> 
> Thanks for all the support, more interaction between Kara and Lena is coming in the next chapter :)


End file.
